England Advent Calendar
by Live-Like-its-heaven-on-earth
Summary: Have an Advent Calendar yet? Can't afford one? Feel you're too old for one? Not religiousness enough for one? Well what about a England-centric rare pair fanfiction calendar to count your way down to Christmas?  M- for future chapters MAYBE
1. Australia

_I will not eat my chocolate advent calendar until I finish this… And I really want my Mars-y treat so let get this first fan-fiction up and on the road! I also apologise in advance instead of having a plan I typed random rubbish… and it didn't come up Christmas-y themed at all… so I dub that not all fan-fictions that appear with be Christmas themed… ENJOY!_

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**.Australia.**

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England couldn't be asked with the meeting. He really couldn't. So, when he took his seat between his own brothers and the Romance brothers (after a lot of arguments it was thought better to try and arrange the Nations geographically, so he was stuck in the wonderful seat of between his brother Wales and France as the two continuously tried killing each other over England, when they weren't trying to annoy him), he slumped into the seat, leaning his head into his palm and just stared into space, not caring that he was a few minutes late, not caring that his brothers were sharing worried glances on one side of him and the other set of brothers doing the same on the other.

No, he really couldn't be asked. And it wasn't his fault… not entirely at least.

His people were pulling him apart. Completely torn about EVERYTHING! The new Government was hung parliament! Half his people wanted out the United Kingdom, the other half didn't. Half his people wanted to sever ties with Europe, the other half didn't. Half his people wanted to destroy his "special relationship", the other half didn't. Half his people wanted him to live a lonely isolated life, the other half wanted him to be overrun with Nations to keep happy- he himself couldn't think of anything nice about either way.

He felt like groaning and bashing his head against the desk in front of him, but he was getting enough weird glances from other Nations. So what if he hadn't hit Scotland and Ireland for their crude comments about him? Nor had he killed France for unclothing him with his bloody perverted mind? Nor destroyed America for butchering the English language?

He was absolutely perfectly fine! Ok, he knew he wasn't fooling anyone, not that he trying to in the first place, when even Switzerland was sending him worried glances. The king of Neutrality was worried, all because he wasn't focusing on a silly little meeting.

He really needed to groan loudly, but he wouldn't show any form of weakness. Instead he was pondering if it would be wise to take up smoking again and his own laws be damned, he'd smoke where ever he bloody wanted too.

He wanted to rebel. Show his people how fucked up they've made their country… but he couldn't blame them- or at least not solely. It was mainly the Governments fault for not being good, not listening and being complete and utter twats.

It was also whoever's fault it was that punk was slowly taking over the fashion line again… and in the music. He could practically feel the strings of temptation trying to pull him back to his days of setting things alight, while wearing tight jeans that were torn everywhere. And those jackets and boots that, oh God, the image of the combination enough to make his mouth water.

And it would be so much easier than it used to be to get himself some more piercings… he had been wanting to get a new tongue piercing, his old one boring him… and corset piercings just- Aw, he _needed_ to get that done, even if it was only a temporary one.

And that lovely tattoo on his back did seem a little lonely… A single rose. It deserved some company!

And his hair… he moved his hand to pull some of his hair in front of his eyes. His blonde hair had never been lovely like France's or Canada's… Maybe he should dye it. Red… No, absolutely not, he didn't want his elder brother's hair colour; even though it wasn't a BRIGHT red… it was _still _a red. Black just didn't work well for him. Blue… he'd done the electric blue; he wanted a new hair colour.

Green. He decides; matching hair and eye colour… now that would be fun!

He'll get some new clothes that showed more flesh than the other Nations believed he liked showing. He was a European Nation (no matter how torn he was about it) and as a European he also fit the criteria of walking around topless whenever he wanted- no matter what others said!

And he'd go to a concert: he could get in for free and without a ticket- he had connections obviously. He'd go that night; get plastered while listening to the amazing melodies that belonged to punk rock. And hopefully forget his indecisive people's problems and hopefully not regret his decision of going out- he'd only go for one night, to cheer himself up.

He grinned lightly, and flopped back in his chair, letting one of his legs rest against the other knee. He was feeling better than before, planning a night of mayhem always did make a guy feel better.

But would he go alone? Well… it was looking like that was what he going to have to do, he almost sighed.

He didn't want to have a relaxing punk filled night with anyone from Europe, and he didn't want to be near America (the lad would make him feel more worse than better) and that knocked out anyone living near the brat, seeing as Alfred would kick up a fuss that HE wasn't invited to a punk concert and he'd yell the ears off his neighbours... no he'd be a tad sympathetic for them seeing as they had to put up with the lad a lot more than the rest of the world.

And he was pretty sure those from Africa would glare him for even making the suggestion and he wasn't going to even suggestion it to any of the Asian Nations, he didn't want to drag them down to his level. He was running out of options and he was going to go alone, when realisation dawned on him as a fight started with the Pacific Nations (thankfully bringing a distraction to take all the worried glances off of him).

Australia enjoyed punk music as much as Arthur did. He grinned; sneakily taking his I-phone out, he still failed to see the surprise that he had an I-phone instead of an ugly old phone that hardly did a thing; he started texting the lad.

The lads phone suddenly went off loudly with the song '(I'm) Stranded' proving to England that he was still into the punk genre (unless he was of course too lazy to take the song off his phone, which was unlikely seeing how new the blasted thing was). And he almost outright snickered when the boy jumped yelling apologies (he thought he had turned the damned thing off).

A few seconds later England felt his phone vibrate and saw a text just dripping with disbelief- England couldn't blame the lad really, when Australia was his colony he had far too many, how was he meant to look after them all and give them all attention, while watching each of their economies at the same time as fighting the blasted frog among other empires?

Sending an encouraging text in the hopes Australia would cave and come, or at least offer to listen to his explanation after the meeting had ended. A few minutes passed and as the fighting had settled, he received a reply.

_Fine… I'll go, but it's all on YOU! You're paying for EVERYTHING!_

England grinned and punched France's jaw.

"That's for trying to read my text!" An elbow to his stomach. "And that's for being a bloody perverted wine-loving bastard!"

The tension that seemed to have piled from England's mood (Arthur guessed he seemed to be going back to his delinquent days… and he guessed he sort of was- but only for one day- no one NIGHT). And the meeting continues, more relaxed and calm than before… or it would've if Italy hadn't questioned why England always used wine-loving bastard as an insult towards France, which turned to chaos about whether beer or wine was better.

_Oh_ all in a day's work!

_._

"So Pommie!" Australia grins and throws an arm over England's shoulder once the meetings chaos had ended with a German yell of "Let's continue tomorrow!"

"What do I owe this pleasure of joining you tonight?" Australia pauses a bit, before sending the Brit a look. "And what exactly have you got planned?"

By this point England and Australia have left the meeting room, only attracting a few odd stares and a slight glare from New Zealand (England makes a mental note to spend some time with him as well… if that's what he wants of course).

"Well, I plan to dye my hair green, get corset piercings, get a new tongue bar, go to a punk-rock concert with newly purchased clothes, get absolutely drunk that I go out and get another tattoo," England's grinning now, the plan sounding better and better as the night went on. "I was wondering if you would want to join me."

"Well…" Australia looked like he was deep in thought, though his grin never wavered. "What makes you think I even want to get drunk and see a concert with you?"

"And dye your hair, the tattoo and piercing are optional though," England grinned over at Australia.

"You never answered my question."

"Well, I didn't." The blonde, soon to be green, stated and sent Australia a glance. "That's why I offered." England grins, walking away from Australia's grasp and sending him a smirk over his shoulder.

"If you decide you do want to tag along you can meet me outside the hotel in about an hour's time!"

And England left, leaving a slightly confused Australian behind. Why had England invited him out? The Brit had proposed a solidly perfect plan that depending on who was asking Australia would've said yes instantly. But, that was the thing; it was England who was asking… he couldn't just say yes… could he?

It's roughly half an hour later that Australia finds himself phoning England and demanding to know here he is- right now!

"I assume this means I can account on you joining me tonight?" He questions.

"Yes!" Australia's grinning into the phone. "I need a night out, and I haven't gone to punk concert in years!"

"Well, right now I'm deciding which dye I should use, because I know the 14 washes out one works like a charm, but we have a meeting tomorrow…" The Brit hums in thought, before giving the Australian his exact location.

"Could always get that one and see how many people you shock tomorrow," Australia muses. "You have a majority of the world terrified whenever you do something that even suggests you're in a funny mood."

"When you've destroyed the Spanish Armada, ruled a quarter of the world and blown your prime-ministers car up because they complained about the fact you wanted a new piercing in a compromising place then we'll see how much of the world is scared of you." He hears his old caretaker chuckle.

"A compromising place?" Australia grins. "Where was that exactly?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" And he's hung up on, much to Australia's amusement and disappointment.

It didn't take him long to find the Brit, he stood with two boxes in hand.

"Still haven't decided?" He questioned looking over the blonde's shoulder, making the Brit jump in surprise- much to Australia's amusement.

"Actually I'm buying both the pathetic one and the longer one; if one doesn't work I'll use the other. These!" He drawled out, showing the two boxes to Australia: he smirks. "Are for you! What colour would you prefer to go?"

"Do I have to dye my hair?" Australia moaned.

"Don't have to if you don't want too," the Brit shrugged and went to put them back, only to have one of them snatched back quickly.

"I'll dye my hair damn it!" Australia whined, suddenly deciding he was going to unwind; he'd feel like he'd lose if only the Brit dyed his hair… losing was something he couldn't stand!

"Do you even know what colour you picked?" The Brit questioned, jogging over to the Australian.

"As long as it's not white," he grinned at the Brit. "I don't care!"

_._

"You're having far too much fun," the Australian remarked; the Brit who laid on his front exposing his back to the now purple haired Australian (who in the end thought fuck it all! And added the access green hair dye on the tips of his hair). England's head was leaning against his folded up arms, and he let his tongue piercings roll along his lip, his green hair still slightly wet and falling into his eyes.

"That I am, and we haven't even reached the concert yet!" He smirked slightly, waiting for the Australian to get it over with.

"Uh… I hate corset piercings…" He groaned and started carefully lacing the newly pierced piercings that trailed along the Brit's back.

"But, they're lovely!" The Brit shot back absolutely offended that someone didn't think so.

"They're freaky! Why get them if you're just going to let them close up?" The Australian cringed slightly. "And the whole tying the bloody things up, what if you pulled too tight, or they get caught on something?"

"Then I'd probably end up losing a lot of flesh," the Brit nodded to himself.

"And you're ALRIGHT with that?" The Australian raised a brow (though he knew England couldn't see).

"Meh," England shrugged lightly- not too much in case the corset piercings moved and freaked Australia out. "It'll grow back… I'm a Nation after all."

Australia groaned, and quickly finished threading the lace (a luminous green- yes Australia was starting to see the pattern in the Brit's taste of colour… or at least for today). Carefully finishing with a bow, Australia moved away from England to finish getting ready his self.

"Thank you, lad." England called, and he went to get his top and boots on in the other room.

Australia did his own thick black boots up that England had bought him- he hoped the Brit wouldn't care that he had spent all that cash on one night out later. Australia also sported a pair of black jeans that were torn and had white words written all over them; a simple silky white shirt that reached just above his elbows. A single piercing rested in his left ear.

England entered a few seconds later, a white shirt that was very nearly transparent, the back completely ripped to reveal his newly purchased corset piercings, and where the tear ended you could see a red rose poking out. He wore red and black plaid three quarter length trousers that had so many black straps clicking all over the place, and a few black chains. And then there were those black platform boots that Australia could only imagine how far they really went up, seeing as they hid under the trousers.

"Ready to go?" Australia questioned, ignoring how attractive his old mentor looked in the punk get up; England answered with a large cat like grin and Australia vaguely remembered England did have that town called Cheshire didn't he?

_._

He giggled… No! He told his mind, he so didn't. He was Australia and Australia didn't giggle! But, the sounds were so like giggles… chuckles… _MANLY_ chuckles he told his mind.

He and England were sitting back to back on a bench that the concert hall had next door to the music (for those who got faint or exhausted), both on their… whatever pint… he couldn't quite remember that very second. All he really remembered was England's head falling lightly onto his shoulder, and the Brit's breath teasing the exposed flesh of his neck. He tensed every time he felt England's warm breath tease him, and shifted slightly, he wanted more than that breathe… but it was England… He couldn't… Not with _this_ Brit…

He sighed turning away leaning his own head back on the Brits and closed his eyes.

"Why did you invite me here England?" He whispered, breathed out, but he felt the Brit stir slightly at the sound of his name.

"What?" He groaned lightly, his head moving slightly and Australia had to convince his self that the Brit wasn't snuggling into him- he wasn't!

"It's… nothing…" Australia murmured and looked away, feeling as though the music and everything around him had gone sour… why was everything so confusing?

He felt England turn to his side, and a hand go under his chin pulling him to look into the emerald eyes he had always secretly admired. He wasn't quite sure if it was his face or England's that was flushed but he knew he suddenly felt very hot.

"Now- what's the matter Australia?" He muttered, and Australia knew the man wasn't doing it on purpose but… he sounded far too inviting.

He felt his self subconsciously shift, his nose lightly touching England's… he knew it meant nothing. Their eyes lined together, intoxicating green meeting loyal green; before Australia had any idea what he was doing he had his lips pressed tightly against England's and a hand in his green locks, keeping him there.

His eyes, half lidded, watched as England's emerald ones hid and lit up as he felt the Brit slowly start to kiss back. He wanted to push his tongue into the Brit's mouth, he wanted England's lips to suffer from his teeth, he wanted to fully shut his eyes and enjoy the sensation of their lips lightly moving against each other's… but he couldn't: not yet…

He pulled away slowly, not too far, their lips lightly touching, brushing against each.

"I don't think you really answered the question," England said his eyes opening- amused; urging Australia into explaining.

"I…" He sighed and let his forehead fall against the Brit's, his eyes closing. "Why did you invite me England?" There was a moment's pause before Australia quickly added: "And you can't say it's because you know I like punk rock… We both know America enjoys punk as well."

"Have you seen a newspaper in my country recently?" England sighed lightly, his breath brushed against Australia's lips. "My people want to get rid of all relations within Europe, America and my own idiotic brothers, but they know how troubling it'll be in the long run, so they keep up the façade that everything's fine, when it clearly isn't; it's effecting me badly, that's why I'm doing what I do every other time something similar happens."

"Go out and get drunk?" Australia laughed lightly and he felt England's lips twitch into a smile.

"No, go out and start a rebellion of sorts. But, I'll be honest with you, even though it'll make me sound like an arse, I didn't think to invite you at first. I usually go drinking with the Europe countries, America, sometimes Canada; usually worm their selves into joining me when I visit concerts. But, as you can probably tell-"

"You don't particularly want to be near them right now…" Australia finished that sentence off, hoping his voice didn't sound pathetic… so he wasn't first on the list of people England would've liked to invite with him… though he knew he should've known better, he still hoped… and it still stung.

"Yes… I thought I'd go on my own, the Asian countries don't really go to concerts with me, the African countries don't particularly like me right now and I thought it'd be better to just go alone. Of course, I ended up remembering you enjoyed punk music, you were into the music long before America after all, even if people don't realise that. And, I know it seems like you're on the bottom of my list Australia, but I was genially happy when you agreed to go."

Australia felt his eyes open at that comment and looked into the green eyes that seemed to be baring more soul than Australia was used to seeing in them.

"And I have enjoyed myself and I have succeeded in my plan, seeing as I'm rambling on as I am." The Brit nodded lightly and Australia felt their lips brush each others. "But guess what Australia?" And he feels the slight grin that stretches across his lips; it makes him shiver against his will.

"What?" He asks after a second, purposely making their lips brush against each other more than he needed to let them.

"You're one of the only countries my people have nothing against." He says it in a sing song voice that almost makes Australia laugh- the Brit truly was drunk and completely gone, no matter how much his speech seemed to make sense.

And before Australia has any idea of what's happening they're kissing again, rougher and he can't quite remember which one of them started it, but he knows he's the one who has his hands tightly gripping the Brit's hips and hair and that he has his tongue shoved roughly in England's mouth. He's also sure England's the one who straddled him, and that he's kissing back with just as much passion, if not more as his hands run through Australia's purple locks.

He moves his hand from the green hair, ghosting it against the Brits flesh until he comes to those awful piercings, where he lightly plucks at the lace.

"That bloody hurts!" England yelped and jumped slightly making their teeth knock against each other and Australia laugh lightly.

"Well, you're the one who decided it would be wise to get corset piercings," he teasingly plucks at it again, making the Brit yelp.

"Yes, and they're only for show!" He yells as the Australian laughed and shook his head and let his hand carry on past the piercings, letting it cling opposite his other hand.

"Well, you should get more useful and enjoyable piercings," Australia tells as he nudges England's face up with his nose and slowly starts kissing along the man's pale neck.

"That's what the tongue piercing is for," he hears England's breath hitch as he bites down where his shoulder and neck meet. "Aren't… you- enjoying… it?" He starts sucking lightly on the spot he had just bit and hummed a noise of agreement.

"It… was… delectable…" He tells the Brit between kisses, as he showers the mark he's left on pale skin with affection.

"Was… it… now?" And he moans and he feels the Australian's hands diving under his top, pushing the thing up- out of his way.

"Of course," and he's just about to add a friend for the other hickey when he hears the doors open and people slowly start pooling out, a few giving them strange looks, others too drunk to care, and the last few just not generally caring in the first place.

"Opps…" Australia grins into England's neck as he feels England's embarrassment sink into his skin. "Guess we missed the end of the show!"

And before England can say anything, they're up, blending into the crowd- just another two faces among a thousand people, but Australia's grinning and England's whole face is red; they're linked together- their fingers intertwined.

Australia slows down once they've left the building and turns back to England. Pulling so close to England's flushed face and whispered as seductively as he possibly could.

"So, are there any places that do tattoos around here at this time of night?"

_._

He groaned when he woke up and turned over… to find an empty bed.

He shot up, and repressed the urge to scream everything to hell, when his head made everything tilt to the side as his hangover came into play. Clutching his head he slowly let everything sink in.

He went out with England, they got drunk had fun at a concert; he vaguely remembered kissing the Brit and the blonde… he meant green haired man said something that made him want to go on… so he did. Then a tattoo… and he may have had sex… he wasn't too sure, but he _knew_ the Brit was meant to be lying in bed with him that morning!

"Damn it…" He groaned, about to flop back into bed, though who's he wasn't too sure, when he heard light laughter and his eyes darted over in the direction of the door, where England leaned (arms folded)against the door frame.

He was still wearing the same clothes as he had yesterday though they weren't as nice as they had been when they first bought them, his green hair was very much sticking up all over the place.

"Nice of you to join the living," he laughed and Australia watched the man in disbelief for a few seconds before letting a grin pull at his lips- maybe the Brit wasn't quite the abandoner he feared he was.

"Nice to be alive," he groaned as he was hit with another wave of nausea. "Or maybe not…"

And just as the Australian was about to pull the covers tightly over his head and forget about the living to get more sleep, he felt the covers pulled back by a highly amused England.

"England…" He whined, reaching for the covers.

"Australia." He said back in an even tone, even if there was laughter lining the words.

"I need sleep…" He did not pout, no matter what the Brit would say, he didn't pout.

"We have a meeting," and slowly Australia's peaceful hangover was filled with panic as his eyes slowly grew wide with realisation: New Zealand was going to kill him!

_._

New Zealand growled slightly, the meeting had started ten minutes ago- where the bloody hell was his brother… and England for that matter. Australia hadn't killed the poor bloke had he… or maybe it was the other way around? Cricket may have come up when they met yesterday? Or… or…

There was a list of things that could've happened and he didn't know where to start! Old memories hadn't come up to haunt them had they? Wait- he was pretty sure they wouldn't be able to kill each other, they were Nations after all… but that didn't rule out the fact that they could've ended up in hospital…

Other Nations in the room looked worried too. Wales was muttering darkly to his self, France and Scotland shared a brief look of worry, Portugal was freaking out as his brother Spain was commenting on how it would be better for the world if England disappeared. America was actually talking civically to Canada about what could've happened. Germany and Japan thinking logically as Italy just bellowed stuff out and-

"We aren't late!" He hears his brother's voice and the doors slam open, Australia rushing in and New Zealand feels his eyes widen- why the bloody hell did Australia have purple hair?

_._

England felt like he could drop his face into his hands. Of course they were late, and they had gained more attention than he would've liked. But, of course they would they were still wearing their punk clothes from yesterday (having slept in some random hotel the night before), both of them still had brightly dyed hair; in England's case he had far more piercings that he usually wore.

"Sorry we're late…" he manages to mutter and pushes Australia towards his seat as he marched off to his own; he knows everyone's watching them and he's not sure which of the two of them has the most looks, because not many of the other Nations had seen Australia in his punk phase… but all the Nations were careful whenever England seemed to have a change of heart (do one or two things wrong and they never let you live it down).

Ignoring the looks his brothers were sending him, he took his seat next to them. New Zealand watched in silent horror and realisation as Australia sat next to him grinning like the fool he was; after a few moments of silence Germany slowly started the meeting back up, after all it wasn't like he or Australia had actually done anything.

Not too long after Germany had started up and most of the other Nations had relaxed, though a few (such as the Nations England happened to sit in-between) had taken it upon their selves to bug England (Australia luckily getting away from such torments as new Zealand had supposedly decided three punches was more than enough retribution).

England lent forward leaning on his hand, refusing to let his back touch the seat (really corset piercings weren't his GREATEST idea to date), when he felt the quiet vibration of his phone. Sneakily getting it out and sending Wales a glare of _you dare look_, only to be returned by Wales's level look of _do you really think so lowly of me?_

England would've sent a look back saying yes, but had checked his text.

_England, want to go to another Punk Concert?_

England paused. Should he, he had told himself that he'd only go to one… A second later he enthusiastically replied, grin creeping across him face, Australia on the other side of the room having a grin to match.

England would've enjoyed doing nothing for the rest of the meeting had he not had to stop France from trying to look down his shirt. Though if France had managed to sneak a peek he would've seen that England lonely rose tattoo had gained a bunch of golden wattle for company…

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_So sorry for the randomness… And the not proper check through that this is getting- I read through it once, but it's getting late and I've spent all day writing this so it's quite bad… Needs a lot of improving in my opinion but it needs to be up for the 1__st__ DX_

_Also you may have noticed… it's quite awful DX_

_So the first advent fan-fiction goes out to my darling friend HoshiUta, who decided the rare-pair AustraliaxEngland was needed… sorry for the lameness of it all… and the crazy lengthy-ness of it all and the bad grammar/punctuation… I'm tired… leave me alone DX_

_Anyways, feel free any who are interested to leave a review on what your favourite rare pairs with England are, if you do they shall magically appear in the fan-fiction, if not you're leaving that to me… THAT could be dangerous XD_

_Anyways I hope you enjoyed, ignore the awfulness and not Christmas-ness of this first chapter… hopefully the next ones whatever pairing they may be, will be better XP_


	2. Male Belgium

_Sorry for the VERY late hour this one is being updated at and the general shortness of it- it's my older brother's birthday, so he kept distracting me! But anyways I hope you enjoy and I wasn't expecting quite a few requests within the first one alone- well I plan to have every request appear at one time or another depending on who I feel like writing on the day and today I shall write…_

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**.Male Belgium.**

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It was frosty- as it was with most winters. Now England wouldn't usually complain… Ok so he might a bit… especially about the weather, the weather was always a wonderful thing to complain about, but for once he had a completely genuine reason for complaining. It was cold and he was living outside in this weather.

There was idle chatter among the others in the trenches- no one was worrying: there was no telling when everyone would be ordered over the top next and instead of worrying endlessly about what they all knew was to happen when they did go over in the name of their country and their freedom, they worried about how muddy, cold and miserable it was out. And it was with these thoughts in mind that England joined in with the joint moaning, halting the thoughts of what was to happen to his men… to his Colonies and Dominions people… to his Allies people… To those on the other side of the trench…

"England!" A perky voice cheered, turning around England came face to face with a young man's face; crazy stuck up everywhere blonde hair and feline green eyes.

"Belgium…" England blinked, what was the lad doing out here in all this ice cold air? Even if it was the lad's own country, it was pretty stupid to go into the trenches in this weather if he wasn't assigned to be there.

"I thought you'd be a little chilly and lonely all by yourself out here!" Belgium cheered, breath easily seen in the cold.

"And why would you think I'd be on my own?" England raises an eyebrow, he had all his men out here; they weren't all just going to up and leave the trenched because Christmas was coming up- after all the war would end before Christmas (or at least that's what they've all been saying every year).

"France came over to Netherlands' house for a visit and complained about you making all the other Nations have a break yet you stayed in the trenches all by yourself," Belgium smiled. "So typical of you England, one second seeming like the big bad guy who wants to colonise the rest of the world and then helping little Nations like myself or even giving all your faithful Colonises and your worst enemies a short break from all this fighting."

"Well I expect a break in return once Christmas is gone," England explains and that's all he's saying on the matter: he doesn't want to be portrayed as the good guy or the bad guy the world didn't seem that black and white to him anymore… he just wanted the others to get some rest, they _needed_ some rest and the holidays seemed like the perfect excuse to force them all to get some.

"Well why not get a short break now," Belgium smiles before pulling out a flask and after unscrewing the lid pours some out for him to have. "I made it myself!"

England smiles and thankfully takes the drink, cupping his hands around the flask's lid, letting the drinks warmth seep into his numbed fingers. He brings the drink to his lips and takes a couple of grateful sips, letting the burning beverage warm his whole body up before noticing the taste.

"Chocolate?" Belgium nods.

"Mixed it with some heated milk," he smiles. "I thought making something like soup wouldn't be special in the spirit of the season, so enjoy the chocolate-y goodness- a Belgian speciality."

"…Thank you," England mutters between sips and without the talk about the weather his mind wonders… he can't help but think of all the dead who have fallen in no man's land, nor can he help but think about what his family are doing- the whole of the Empire- France- Russia... He kind of misses them all…

"No… I need to thank you…" Belgium smiles sincerely, wraps his hands around England's and tries breathing a little more warmth into them: a shy smile spread across his lips. "I… never thanked you for coming over when Germany broke my neutrality… And I never thanked you for setting that up with the Treaty of London in the first place…"

He looks up at England, green eyes large bright and so… happy.

"Thank you… Thank you… I… I don't know what ditch I'd be in without your help…" A little grimace flitters across his face as he looks at all the mud and weapons around them. "I'd probably be in this all alone… You've… You and all of your family… they've helped so much and…"

"Belgium, it's alright," England smiles at him, all he can do with Belgium's hands wrapped around his own. "I would've done the same for a lot of other Nations… and I'm glad _you're_ OK…"

It's silent for a moment, the two connected by their hands, the trenches filled with good spirited banter and no gun shots… England could almost convince his mind that they weren't in the middle of a battle field… that they were going for a unique picnic of some sort, but it's that ever so tormenting chilly breeze that reminds him otherwise…

"It's freezing…" he mutters, his teeth aren't chattering yet though… the winter has only just started, it's only going to get worse…

"Come here," Belgium smiles, pulling them closer to each other. "Joint warmth is better than none!"

There's more silence, a comfortable silence, as their cheeks flush in embarrassment and slowly, oh so slowly silence fills the trenches as the many noble men go off to sleep. But Belgium continues to stand there, hands wrapped around England's, the harsh winds forcing the heated milk and chocolate to go cold, but the two don't notice, their closeness and joint warmth more than enough to help them stay warm.

Belgium would proceed to leave the next morning only to return with more gifts and the pattern would continue over the course of the Winter Months and Christmas he would leave England with a special present (a shy but meaningful kiss) and England would remember it as the best Christmas he'd ever had in the trenches… Though that year he beat Germany at football came as a pretty close second…

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_And there you go- Day 2 you get Male Belgium as requested by "The Artist Formaly Known as" it's shorter than the last chapter as today is my older brother's birthday so I could only spend less than an hour on it… though I kind of enjoy this one more than yesterdays one as he flowed together better… the other one was chunky as I said DX Though admittedly this isn't to the best of my ability either (is determined to make tomorrow's one good!)_

_Oh well, enjoy remember you can continue to suggest rare pairs, I can't promise it will be in the very next one as I think I'll choose the pairings randomly so as to not discriminate? Well something like that. Anyways enjoy- tell me what you think!_


	3. Denmark

_I have yet to thank everyone for their reviews generally and some replies I sent to reviews got messed up, because of my computer so I shall thank you all here: Thank you! Anyway one of my favourite rare pairs this time around and I warn you it's not too bad but I doubt this chapter will be everyone's favourite blend tea with a few dark suggestions but not much (in my opinion and I don't think much on Frankie Boyle and Jimmy Carr's dark humour so… I'm not a good judge of these things) anyways enjoy one and all as today- the third belongs to…_

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**.Denmark.**

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The chains on his hands were new, and not a weak kind of made in a rush new like he had been used to recently, but a strong wouldn't break no matter how much he pulled new. The ship he was stuck in though wasn't. The wood was worn and splinters caught him more often than not, the metal bars that imprisoned him were rusting and he was positive that if his hands weren't so constricted he would've been able to break his way out already, but those damned chains…

He lent against the wooden side of the ship as the ship tried it's best to keep steady in the torrent rain that came from nowhere. He could almost enjoy it to be honest, surrounded by a wooden ship, with a storm raging and on the waves he loved and lived a majority of his childhood on. It was peaceful… if he ignored the fact that he hadn't eaten for a few days and that his people in other cells had been treated in the same manner. And if he could ignore the clacking sound of boots getting louder as his captor got closer.

He lifted his head, his blue eyes just managing to peer through his dirt covered blonde hair; he wasn't used to looking through his hair at others, usually pushing it back as he did, and it was starting to frustrate him as it took up a majority of his vision.

"Denmark!" His captor smirked, his scruffy blonde hair shocked into odd angles from the rain and wind outside. He leant on the bars of Denmark's cage; chin snuggled into his palm as his long pristine white coat swished its way to his ankles. He didn't look like he had been in a long war for quite some years now, if anything he looked as though he'd returned from some play or dance, victorious nonetheless.

"England," he nodded, pointedly staring at England's undone trousers and shirt and the pale flesh exposed, he knew England wanted him to look, but he wasn't one to care for traps or play such silly and pointless games as England did.

"Ah, ah," he tutted. "I'm going by the name Britain now," he smirked as he remembered some memory Denmark was ignorant to. "Though I guess you could call me by my full title the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland… either will do, I'm not fused really."

"Danelaw then," Denmark glared sharply, he hated these games England created and hated that he'd always willing walk into them and he'd hate the fact that most of the times he'd end up enjoying the end result.

"Aw com'on Denmark, be a good sport my titles have changed you could at least call me by one of them," he smiled, but did nothing to push him into either like he usually would, instead he just made a show of brandishing the key and unlocking his prison's door.

"Now we have to hand you over to Sweden, I hear he wants to take Norway from you," England smirks; Denmark clenches his fists… now _that_ was new to him.

"What…" It wasn't exactly a question, it sounded too simple and angry to be so, but England explained anyway.

"France has lost. You have lost. And Sweden, as usual, has been a dear who's helped me from the beginning of the war… unlike most of Europe…" England's eyes narrow dangerously, before he sighs. "Like usual I suppose. But seeing as Sweden has once again proved to be a wonderful ally I promised to give him whatever he wanted and surprise, surprise he wanted Norway."

It wasn't a surprise. Everyone knew that Sweden had been trying to take Norway from Denmark's Empire- make it harder for Denmark to fight him- make it harder for Denmark to claim that insufferable title of "_King of Northern Europe_". And it wasn't a surprise that Denmark was angry- how _dare_ anyone knock him off his **throne**- how _dare_ anyone take what was **his**- and how _dare_ England **help** Sweden do so!

England ignored the anger radiating from the Dane and strolled forward, a spring in his step and a hum on his lips. Kneeling down beside the seething Dane, he took the handcuffs and with a click of pure finality the room went still.

It was only a matter of seconds later that England found himself being roughly shoved to the ground by an angry rage full Viking and even less to find the Viking in question straddling his waist, his knees resting harshly in his sides, ankles forcing his legs down and his wrists forced down in a vicelike grip.

England smirks up at the stormy blue eyes.

"And what do you plan to do now Denmark?" England hums. "Rape? Pillage? Going to show me personally what you put my people through? Because I can assure you, you won't get away with that anymore."

"Who says that," Denmark growls, he wasn't planning on doing that, but who the hell says he can't do what he likes to _his_ land. He snaps his and England's hips together, they both groan- it's been a while since they last did anything together- intimately at least. "You'd end up enjoying whatever I do to you," a grin that's _all_ teeth. "Like always."

England brushes his comment away like a speck of dust.

"Because if I go to this meeting without the ability to walk, with you grinning like a fool beside me everyone will realise what you've done… and you do realise how alone you are at the moment? France is useless to you. I have Prussia, Sweden, Portugal, Austria, Russia and so many of the European powers on my side… even _Spain_! And let's not forget _my_ Empire! India will be there and he won't be impressed and you have some colonies on his land… Do you know what he does when he's not impressed?"

England laughs- smirk never leaving his lips. Denmark's eyes are narrowed, but his lips are still twisted into an amused grin.

"Well then England aren't you glad," Denmark frees a hand, trapping both of England's wrists with one, so he can tap England's lips. "That we can put those lips to good use without any evidence _or_ injury?"

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_And I'm going to leave it there for two reasons. I'm sure your imaginations are brilliant enough to fill in the gaps and I started this one a little late (I was admiring pictures of India… don't judge me… he's COOL!) so I don't have time to finish it before the 4__th__ attacks us. Also I may have chickened out of just writing smut… -runs off in tears- Why can't I write smut anymore DX_

_Anyways this one was requested by RedWolf95 and I was originally going to like write Denmark x England… at a MUCH later date and with more detail (so probably when my holidays started some when) and write a historical Netherlands one for now (which I love just as much), which was her/his other request… but Denmark with all his Viking glory wouldn't leave my fingers when typing… so this came about DX_

_Anyways historic content, in the Napoleon wars, after some VERY interesting Denmark – England events, one including the first missiles used in Europe (on Denmark… by England… destroying a majority of Copenhagen… that's Denmark's Capital… his heart… Am I the only one who thinks Denmark has a HUGE scar over his heart because of this? Yes? Right maybe I'll just go off and write a fan-fic for THAT then and change your minds), and eventually cause the gun boat wars to start. A LOT of Danish and Norwegian people were captured and the English decided they'd just keep them locked up in boats that weren't used but were docked near the shores of England… Why is this pairing so RARE? I mean look at some of the historical stuff I just threw at you THERE! That's interesting stuff and I haven't even got into the Viking stuff (which was hinted at though by the rape and pillage remark by England)!_

_Also England PLANNED for that to happen- he's feeling smug and cheerful for beating France- again- and decided playing with his OTHER old captors mind would be fun (OTHER because France… with his Normans after the Vikings), and I feel Denmark doesn't particularly work like England- England enjoys fucking with his prey's mind and then worries aimlessly, whereas Denmark just charges in and NEVER regrets things. Also what ends up happening after this IS Norway being given to Sweden, Denmark becoming bankrupt and having to sell his Indian Colonies to England (giving England more control of India), so maybe India DID find out, either meaning Denmark/England drunkly admitted to such things OR Denmark and England got a little excited through this little session and went a little further than planned? Well I'll let you decide that XP_

_Anyways, that's all for today- before I rant anymore- if you haven't noticed I'm going through requests in order they come in… and those who asked for two, both will show up within the story it's just I'll give everyone one and then go through them again so it's more… fair? What this means is tomorrow is… Nah I shan't tell you… it's not like calendars come with and tomorrow's chocolate shall be shaped as!_

_Anyways on the mention of chocolate and how thirsty/hungry I am, I bid you adieu and I hope you enjoyed this Viking-kinda-fest!_


	4. Ukraine

_And today I present you with our fourth rare pairing, if you don't enjoy pairings of the opposite genders I suggest you turn your pretty little heads around now for today I bring you England's other half as…_

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**.Ukraine.**

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It was chilly. England rubbed his hands together, he forgot that although Ukraine came off as a cheerful and bright Nation her land was indeed cold and with a brother like Russia it shouldn't have been so surprising that she would be used to such cold weather. But as England walked towards her house- they had a meeting- he hadn't expected to find her tending to a lot of flowers in a field near her house.

"Ukraine!" He called after a while of wondering how she was able to work with just a flimsy shirt and dungarees on without catching a death of a cold.

"Ah England!" She jumped in surprise turning quickly around, looking apologetic. "Can you wait a moment?"

England nodded, walking over to the fence and waiting for her to finish, as she went back to tending to… sunflowers? England admired them, they were large and greatly grown… and he wasn't referring to what France would be talking about (although you can't blame England, he may have stared like a few others when he first had met her… he was a man after all).

"You're growing sunflowers?" England questioned- attempting to get his mind away from… such un-gentlemanly topics.

"Ah, Christmas is approaching?" She started, standing up and taking a few deep breaths to relax her muscles from the effort on tending to the flowers. "Russia and Belarus and our family coming over for Christmas. And though you may not think it, Russia really enjoys Christmas- so I am trying to grow a lot of sunflowers for him… as a present. He enjoys them."

Ukraine smiles sweetly over at England. "I am right in assuming you'll be spending Christmas with your family?"

England smiles and looks over the whole field, all the work Ukraine had put into making this gift for her younger brother.

"We might. The commonwealth have a thing of turning up without warning and even then not all of them are definitely going to show up… they're always starting arguments with each other. America is usually too busy at his own house and usually drags all his neighbours- including Canada- to his house, so they probably won't turn up. And anyway I've been a bit too busy to have a proper holiday recently."

"You shouldn't push yourself too hard England… Everyone needs a break." Ukraine smiles at England- the reassuring older sister like smile that she shows to those she trusts. England in turn sends her his own special smile, the one he uses when the commonwealth are over- but he usually hides it behind a hand or a cup- if they thought he found their company entertaining there was no telling when they'd leave his house.

"So need any help there?" England questions. "I don't mean to boast but I'm quite the gardener, have you seen my rose bushes?"

"Ah, you can't help- you're a guest…" She jumps up startled. "Oh, I'm being rude I should be offering you tea… and-"

England holds up a hand, smiles and walks over, knelling down to the flowers roots and makes sure there's enough moisture- not too much to drown, not too little to dehydrate.

"You are nothing but polite Ukraine," England smiles up at her. "Let's finish these quickly, go in and warm up quickly before we have to have our meeting."

She knells down beside him and they both get to work- a comfortable silence drifts in and among the sea of yellow sunflowers. It's not long after that that England feels that deathly grip that the wind seems to imitate all too well and sneezes.

After blessing himself, with an amused smile from Ukraine, he can't help but ask. "Do you have a scarf or some gloves, we're only getting a little frost back home, so I'm not quite used to the cold weather yet…"

"Ah, I'm sorry…" She grimaces. "I leant my last pair to Belarus when she came running through, she completely forgot them as she was excited to meet brother…"

"Ah, no problem," England sniffles. "Let' finish this quickly so we can go back in."

A quick and enthusiastic nod, but their comfortable silence has been kicked away by an awkward one. Ukraine feels guilty- if England gets a cold it would be her fault, for making him work out in the cold with her. So England smiles, he's learnt how to read these silences and starts some idle chatter.

"Did you know flowers have their own language?" Ukraine looks over at England, who is looking at the flowers with a soft smile. "They send messages through their colours and what they are. Do you know what the sunflower means?"

England leans in towards the flower's head; fingers gently brushed against the petals, his green eyes watch Ukraine from the corner of his eyes. She shakes her head no.

"Sunflowers mean: Loyalty, haughtiness and," he kisses the flower lightly, his eyes never leaving Ukraine's. "You are splendid."

Ukraine blushes, ignoring the fluttering of her heart- she's not used to such attention, but since she's gotten close to the commonwealth it's a natural thing between them to be warm to each other. To make others blush, to laugh, to make others feel like they're needed. And she's trying not to take what any of them say seriously, they're always teasing each other, but England's eyes are always so genuine, so she shakes the feeling away for now, tries to continue the conversation by asking why a flower could mean so many things, but she knows later she'll remember England's eyes and his lips against the sunflower and she'll feel confused all over again.

It's weeks later, once Christmas has arrived that she opens her gifts- Russia having seen his field of sunflowers is singing happily, bottle of vodka in hand- and finds one from England. It's wrapped in pretty paper. It's a book. With a red scarf and matching gloves wrapped around it- each of them have a small flower sewn on the corners.

The book is about flowers and their language. She smiles- thinking of what to give England in return. The book is marked- she turns to the page and discovers the flower sewn on her scarf and gloves is an azalea.

_Azalea: Take care of yourself for me; fragile passion; temperance; Chinese symbol of womanhood_

Ukraine's face flares bright red- Estonia questions if she's alright, but all Ukraine can think of is those green eyes and she questions how she's meant to know what England wanted her to know and what she means to him…

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_This one was for: Skadiyoko I hope you enjoyed XP_

_Well… That was interesting to write (hasn't written Ukraine before, so I hope that's ok also I didn't know how to write her speech so I used my Russian friend's accent as inspiration… he talks backwards sometimes and when we asked if he was going to join us instead of saying "I am" he said "I'm", it was cute and he's so fun to tease, but yeah I used his accent because I haven't a clue how to write Ukraine's speech… I've never met a person from Ukraine nor have I talked to someone on the internet from there… that's kind of sad DX). Also I thought what could I write about between these two and the only things that sprung to mind was one- sewing/ knitting, two- flowers and three- both being very caring siblings, so their families. So I tried to fuse it all together XD_

_Also why were the commonwealth mentioned a bit? Because my research about England all for Ukraine being in the EU and NATO came from a commonwealth website and let's face it quite a few of the commonwealth nations seem to get along with her as well. Also I get the feeling that the commonwealth kind of are just so jolly and friendly with others that they seem to be flirting when they're not, or maybe they are who knows. Anyway due to this research, England was coming over for a meeting about helping Ukraine into the EU and/or NATO, which is how they've become friends, but what ends up happening is the two of them talk endlessly about family problems or cute things they've done (meaning Ukraine knows all of the commonwealth Nations most embarrassing secrets and England on the Soviet Nations XD)_

_Also has to be said that I felt Ukraine was a bit unaware of her… femininity and doesn't really consciously do girly things, or isn't aware of what her large breasts do to the guys and because of this she's greatly embarrassed at the fact that a guy Nation MIGHT think of her in such a way XP_

_Anyways this was meant to come out as sweet, I hope it did. I'm trying to make each chapter different so we aren't stuck with lots of similar things (which is what sometimes happens when we deal with fan-fictions like I'm doing, so I hope everything's coming out alright). Enjoy my pretties, I managed to update a little early today- I doubt tomorrow I'll be able to update early… sadly, but we can hope, so see you tomorrow… some when!_


	5. Hong Kong

_I really love this nation, so I'm glad he was requested, so without further ado I present you with…_

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**.Hong Kong.**

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There are bandages everywhere. Some completely covered in blood, others not so much and the rest an almost pristine white. Among the mess of a room sits two figures, one a once sturdy 23 year old, his figure is more slumped and has a lingering sense of defeat… yet victory… he seemed to be teetering between the two, trying to keep his balance on the fence long enough, so he could jump into victory with a proud smirk, instead of a relieved grimace that belongs to those who have been forced into a long country run without any warm ups or experience in running beforehand. The other form is that of a young 15-17 year old boy, his usual energetic figure has been drained close to the bone, his usual luscious black hair falls into knots in front of his eyes and he has fresh and dry blood catering most of his weary body- his eyes though, a forever burning amber, stay stubbornly open as the other wipes the blood clear from his arm and drapes a new bandage around him, carefully but tight.

It's just another bandage that would soon end with the other skittered across the floor, but for now it _is_ helping so the younger boy says nothing. He's not bothered either at the moment, because it's _England_ who's bandaging his arm up, it's _England_ who's caring for him, it's _England_ who's spoiling him. And it's not Japan- his once upon a time brother. It's not Japan with his mechanic fingers that break him, kill him, scar him- fix him, pet him, love him. He never realised how much he missed being a part of the British Empire until Asia stuck its grimy fingers into his flesh- ripped him apart… Everyone made freedom seem like a fun thing, something that made your people happier, made you happier… Japan promised every Nation he took freedom- promised their Asian family would be back together again… That Europe would leave them…

He doesn't want Europe to leave him. If Europe leaves him- England will leave him.

"Don't leave me…" He mutters, it's coarse. He stopped speaking to Japan when he visited… He wanted England… or Singapore… Malaysia… India… Any of the Empire… So he stopped replying… his throat burns and constricts now when he goes to speak (it's annoying because he's been practising his English under Japan's rule- if only to annoy the older man- and can imitate five of England's accents perfectly now).

"It's alright Hong Kong, don't speak for now…" England doesn't make a comment about not leaving, so Hong Kong rips free from his grip and clings onto his shirt.

"Don't leave me…" He's crying… he never realised he needed England that much… he never realised he needed all of _this_ that much. He needs the Empire, the Nations in the Empire, the happiness… "Don't leave…"

England sighs and runs one hand- it's bony, reassuring Hong Kong that he's not the only one that's suffered, he's not that different still- he can catch up again- through his matted black locks, when his fingers come to a knot they slowly, gently and systematically free it- it doesn't feel the pain Hong Kong's gotten used to, only peaceful calming feelings.

"I'm not leaving yet…" England promises- or Hong Kong believes it's a promise; it's different to the others promises shared because there's no optimistic lies hidden behind the words, there's no smiles… it's realistic.

That last thing England promised… _I won't let Japan take you from me… I promise…_ He lied then- Japan took him; destroyed him- he could lie now… But why the _yet_…

"England… You can't leave me… It's not fair… You promised he wouldn't take me… You promised me… And… And-"

"I came back for you."

That's all that needs to be said. There's silence as England's fingers continue to sort Hong Kong's hair out of the mess it had become (Hong Kong already feels cleaner, better and prettier- Japan hasn't destroyed him beyond repair… not yet… at least). But England's words still run hallow…

"Why are you planning to leave…?" Hong Kong sniffles, the tears and emotions… he's not used to them breaking free like this… Did Japan break him emotionally? Did he destroy his emotional dam?

"I… I won't… as long as you feel you need me…" England decides, it's a moment of impulse on his part, but all the stress in Hong Kong evaporates and the younger Nation lifts his head to look England in the eyes- those special green eyes, eyes many fall prey too.

"I need you… I really do…"

And Hong Kong kisses England, square on the lips. He hasn't really done this before- there have been shy kisses with the other little Nations (when the older Nations have their backs turned of course), but that was all curiosity, this… Oh God _this_… _THIS_ is real… and Hong Kong loves England's lips- they're chapped, but as are Hong Kong's- they've been in a war after all- but he adores them none the less.

He shyly swipes his tongue against England's lips. England's green eyes remain detached, but all Hong Kong can think about at the time is that they're so green and that England opens his mouth and allows Hong Kong to push his tongue into forbidden treasure (or maybe not as forbidden as it seemed).

Hong Kong shuts his eyes, pushes more into England- gently, softly; scared at first, but when England doesn't protest he pulls them as close together as they possibly can- tries to push them into one being- he is after all just another part of the British Empire, a part of England. And his tongue feels good against England's, he's never gone this far with someone before- so he enjoys the kissing and the touching and the feeling, but he doesn't go any further, just enjoys England's closeness, his there-ness as much as he possibly can.

It's much later that he realises England didn't react as much as the rumours say he would, that England's green- green eyes just watched him, there wasn't passion of endless bounds in them- he worries about it at first, maybe he's too inexperienced for these things, maybe he's too young… It takes him a little longer to realise the actual reason…

_As long as you feel you need me…_

He doesn't know whether he should cry, laugh or be happy, because surely England cares enough about him to let him do what he likes, but… but that's not what he wants is it… that's not what he needs… So… so he'll be selfish… for now and then… then he'll tell England he doesn't want England to let him use him anymore… and… and… he'll hope, but until then…

_As long as you feel you need me…_

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_La, la, la! (Goes back to read what's I've written)… Well… That's not what I had in mind… Well –cough, cough- I hope you don't mind this _Catzi _seeing as you were the one who asked for Hong Kong… I don't know why this came into being, I adore Hong Kong… I had sweet thoughts in mind for them and BAM!_

_Why do stories have minds of their own? ALSO! I feel sick… took the day off of college and had to miss my friend's birthday party and I am now planning on gaining more sleep… As shown if this piece I am clearly still out of it! Read, enjoy, review or whatever other stuff you do, I shall update again tomorrow and… actually hopefully LIVE tomorrow DX XD_

_(Oh and as a quickly after thought, I LOVE Japan, it's just this is set after World War 2 and all the countries in the commonwealth- other than maybe Canada and New Zealand, are little unstable, some for understandable reasons (such as Asian for the whole Japan thing, England for the whole BLITZ thing, etc, etc.) and some from just the emotional pressure (I like to think after World War 1 Australia was a little scared for England- as I feel WW1 Aus realised England wasn't as strong as he thought he was and then England was bombed and Japan tried to invade… he's a little emotionally unstable) Anyways, just putting it out there I LOVE Japan, but he was an arse through WW2 can't be bothered to explain anything else- is really going to sleep now!)_


	6. Germany

_There's two stories this time- on the same pairing- why? Because this pairing was requested a magical THREE times and two of the people who requested it, left a couple suggestions on what they wanted, so I'd feel bad if I only do one of the suggestions so… First story shall be for RainingMagicTea (adoring the name by the way) simply because she asked first and then olliebaz9 shall have their turn (also you asked why Belgium was gender-bended? Because that was what was requested and come on- Male Belgium's hair is AMAZING!) Oh by the way the third person who requested this pairing was CherryYume, but because you were cheeky enough to request that many pairings (not complaining by the way they were some cool pairing choices), I'm only going to put your name on the requests you made that no one else did… Also I hope no one minds England being gender-bended in this chapter! Long introduction is LONG! Now onwards to…_

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**.Germany.**

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There was a startled yelp, though it sounded as though it was filled with merry joy of a young woman who had been just been laughing; it was accompanied with the harsh but enthralling laughter of a slightly older man. Germany crept down the stairs, two gifts in hand.

"I can finish the top for you if you like," his brother's voice crept through the room, there was an angry huff and as Germany entered the room he noticed it belonged to England, though who else would it belong to seeing as it was her house.

She sat on the floor; her elegant white dress riding up her thigh (Germany criticises his mind for even daring to look there) and a box filled with ornaments are spread out around her. She looks up at Prussia, who's grinning.

"I don't need your help decorating a flipping tree!" She huffs, but holds her hand out to him. "You _can_ help me up though, heels and dresses with be the death of me I swear!"

"Why do you wear them then?" Prussia questions, taking her hand in a firm grip and pulling her to her feet.

"Usually to prove France wrong, nowadays because Victoria commands it," she huffs and picks up one of the many ornaments that have fallen everywhere. "Anyway you can go away; _I_ get to decorate the tree- your brother promised."

England goes over to the tree and carefully strings the large orb into place, a happy smile spread along her face- she's never spent a Christmas like this before… it's quite brilliant and it's not a miserable supper gone wrong with her brothers- she loves them, but really they can make the worst even more horrible. Prussia watches as she puts the ornaments up- making sure that THIS time she didn't make it fall over again… you'd think that making a tree topple five times already that she would've given it up and let him take over- but he forgot this was _England_ he was talking about.

"Bruder," Germany calls as he enters, he's managed to knock his happy smile off his face- he's glad to know Prussia is getting along with England: the girl that he may have gained a little bit of a crush on… but it's nothing serious… just a little… a _really_ little crush…

"West!" Prussia calls out, turning around- grin in place. "England's about to make the tree fall over for the sixth time and refuses help, want to join me in watching?"

"Bruder, you were cooking some pudding-" Germany rolls his eyes as realisation crosses his brother's face and Prussia speeds into the kitchen.

"Thank you for that… he's _really_ distracting," England smiles back at Germany, who proceeds to walk over gift in hand- England's eyes widen in surprise. "We can give the gifts now? Prussia said we didn't give them until after his pudding!"

"Ah… Bruder was probably… joking," Germany smiles as England rushes to the side and takes out her own gift and passes it to him.

"It's... nothing big… I made Prussia a matching one too, so well…" England shrugs awkwardly as Germany takes out the scarf she knitted (she's made it from silk) - she knows it's simple and unoriginal… but scarves are needed for warmth and Germany and Prussia never seem to be ones who would want lots of things that aren't needed… so she stuck to something simple.

Germany smiles, wraps it around his neck and hands England one of the presents- the other's for his older brother- though he's tempted to not give it to Prussia until after this pudding he's so proud of now. England's fingers open it delicately but precisely to reveal a gun… a handmade gun.

"I… I thought your safety would be a top priority so…" Germany's face is flushing bright red and she smiles sincerely at him.

"Thank you-"

"Pudding! Get in here _now_, the most awesome pudding by yours truly is finished!" Prussia yells. "Watch out for the mistletoe though West! I put it up everywhere!"

"Why did you put it up everywhere Bruder?" Germany yells as they enter the "dangerous" room in question.

"So I could get a lot of kisses from England obviously!" Prussia's trademark laughter fills the house. As Germany and England walk towards the kitchen, England starts to hum, happy at the jolly atmosphere… she likes being around Germany and Prussia.

"Ah… what's that tune…?" Germany asks before they enter the kitchen, England smiles back at him.

"I guess I should teach you some of my Christmas traditions it's a carol called…"

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"_Silent Night, Holy Night, all is calm, all is bright-_"

The sounds of carols German and English mixing together, England breathes into the palms of her hands. She wants to offer a truce… her people are singing better than the Germans though so she doesn't want to disrupt them but…

"Germany!" She belts out, loud, clear and determined. "Let's call for a truce!"

There's a moment where her people slowly stop singing, where the German stops and she's almost afraid she's ruined the Christmas spirit, she's ruined the little peace that spread across the trenches and-

"The Germans are leaving the trenches!" She hears one of her men call and soon her people are joining in, all leaving their trenches and England smiles, and slowly leaves herself.

"Need a hand?" She looks up at Germany, his blonde hair dirt covered and much messier than she's used to seeing him with. She smiles and accepts the hand.

"I tell you dresses and heels!" She laughs as he smiles. They look out at their people. There's a mini football match going on and she's grins over at him. "Want a game? Friendly of course."

Germany nods and they walk towards the match, it's when he's beside her he remembers how small she is, how fragile… how beautiful. He never really got over his crush and he'll be honest it's moments when they're together like this in peace that he wonders why he'd ever want to get over it. He notices she has a gun attached to her side… a very much German made gun.

"I… I still want your safety…" He comments, nodding towards the gun. "It's just… you entered on Belgium and France's side and-"

"Germany…" She sighs and looks over at him. "If you want my supreme safety then you have to think what you do and who you make your enemies and allies… but," she smiles. "Let's forget about that for now, football right?"

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"England!" Germany call out, he grabs her arms in an almost bruising grip- he doesn't want to hurt her, she's small (small but powerful his mind reminds him), but… she's going to leave him… she's going to leave him- again! "You told me to be careful on whom to choose as my allies! I want YOU as my ally… So… So why are you…?"

"Germany…" England swallows and attempts to remove his hands- he holds on tighter, he can't give up, he can't give her up- he's hardly had a chance. The Victorian age was hardly a break in their lives… hardly any time to know her well, or for her to know him well. France has had centuries- they've learnt to hate each other… but still… she still goes to him and… and…

He wants to have the chance to love her… He wants to learn to love her and have her love him and…

He kisses her, it's harsh, bruising and it's everything he doesn't feel. He doesn't want to be rough and hard or cruel, he wants it to be filled with the sweet and gentle feelings he knows his heart is filled with. He wants it to be filled with a happy fairytale, not quite like the stories Prussia used to tell him… happier feelings…

And she's pushing away.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She yells, she struggles, she… she doesn't want to love him? To know him…? To be with him…?

"England I-" he needs the chance, it's just… he doesn't know how to say what he wants to say… Or to explain this feeling but he wants the chance to and…

"Get off our Mum!" He's roughly pulled away from England; an angry Australia standing in front of him, Canada watches carefully as New Zealand gently tugs England out the room, where Germany can just about see India and South Africa waiting. India's the only one who doesn't look angry, he hugs England and smiles- says something to her in a whisper and walks away with England… Germany's England… _His_ England…

"Don't you dare touch her," Australia growls. "You almost made her blind with your stupid mustard gas! You almost ruined her!"

He storms out after spitting at Germany: New Zealand and South Africa chase after him- making sure he's ok, making sure he doesn't do something stupid. Canada watches Germany a little longer, before sighing and leaving- his family need him.

And Germany's left on his own. He's kind of angry himself. Annoyed. And how dare her Empire take England from him…

And it's then that he realises why England doesn't want to stay with him, to know him, to love him… She has too many worries, too many Colonies and Dominions to look after… So he… so he just has to get rid of them right? Make them someone else's worry… then England could… _would_ be his?

He meets Japan. Japan has ideas about European control. They make a pact. Asia and Oceania can be Japan's. Italy can have Africa… The Americas can look after itself and Europe... The whole of Europe… that'll belong to Germany… Especially one special little island…

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_And it's done. And it's strange. I hope the three who requested enjoyed. For those who don't know the first part- the Victorian age, when Germany gives modern day Christmas to England. The second part football in the trenches (that was actually briefly mentioned in Belgium's part) where there was a truce for Christmas. And the last bit- just before WW2, where Germany wants England on his side- Hitler's making him snap and go a little crazy by the way. And a little head cannon, England's eyes (especially female England's) get progressively bad from always being hit (such as France shooting an arrow through the battle of Hastings), but in WW1, to protect someone else she gets a full blast of mustard gas and is blind for a LONG while (well long in the mind of a Nation healing quickly)._

_Anyways, I have coursework; I still don't feel well and such things so I'm signing off today's chapter already! (Though it has to be said anyone have any guesses on what happened to the gun, because I can assure you England didn't have it in the last part of the story, though Germany and Prussia kept the scarves- and hey England you can't just giving scarves as it's the easiest thing to make!)._

_Thank you for the lots of reviews as well by the way I enjoyed reading them when I woke up this morning! And lots of more requests and pairings to do still yet XD_


	7. India

_Female!England again by the way- blame my fingers!_

_After deciding that me being ill makes me choose dark historical references, I decided that for today's chapter I won't have any historical references. So, I though what's the next best thing if history is out of the way in Hetalia and surprise, surprise I decided messed up magic (not necessarily England's) so enjoy a chapter filled with…_

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**.India.**

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The bed is a mess- as is Pakistan's mind, but that was his own fault he should have learnt never to barge into India's room unannounced when England was visiting, really if he kept it up India was going to start thinking his brother enjoyed seeing him in compromising positions. But either way the bed was in a state. The quilt was all snuggled up together at the end of the bed- India's feet rested against the smooth material; the sheets are screwed up, bunching together in areas where they had moved together, the sheets fingertips cling to the mattress for dear life. It's the two figures wrapped together that are the messiest part of the bed though.

England lays stretched out on top of India, her left hand's intertwined with India's loosely and rests beside them- practically forgotten, her other hand rests against India's cheek stroking lazy circles into whatever flesh it reaches- India lazily kisses her thumb whenever it accidently brushes against his lips, her head nuzzles close into the side of his neck. India below her enjoys the small lazy breather they're taking, enjoys the feeling of England pressed up against him and enjoys letting his free hand rub up and down her back- she had complained of a back ache after their last round, so it's all for her comfort. Their bodies are sticky with fluids of one or another- neither particularly notice nor care at the moment.

It's an ordinary situation for the two to find themselves in if they're being honest, but there's something unique about it all. Attached to both Nations were an extra pair of ears and a tail. For India there's a pair of tiger ears that twitch every time they brush against the material of the cushions under his head and a tiger's tail that's somehow found its self wrapped against England's thigh- he hasn't a clue how he moved it there but he can feel it… which is in honesty a little weird. On England's head there's a pair of golden lion ears, one flops down completely uncaring to whatever she wants, the other tries to twitch away from India's breath- sadly it finds itself attached to England and unable to escape- and there's a tail, a long and scruffy tail that curls up for a moment and then unfurl itself into a new position a second later only to decide it didn't quite like that position either.

It's the reason Pakistan charged in earlier that day- India's sure as his brother had a pair of small Markhor antlers and ears. India had felt like laughing at not only his brother's expression at walking in on them _again_, but the fact that the antlers and ears just looked so out of place on him and he would have laughed if he wasn't doing something much more important than laughing at his brother. But he was sure that was the reason he charged in after all it was the reason India had caught England earlier that day, because waking up with ears and a tail weren't normal and when such magic tricks happened over night it was usually England's fault.

It wasn't, if you were wondering.

India had walked towards England's room- the commonwealth were over for a meeting- and found her standing in front of a mirror just as confused as he felt. She had looked adorable standing there in front of the mirror like that, that it had taken a majority of his resistance that he was known for, not to jump her. Of course England wasn't known for being reserved and only moments later they found their selves back in India's room, England straddling him and kissing him desperately as though they hadn't seen each other in years, while his fingers made a swift job of getting rid any and all insulting fabric.

It hadn't taken them all morning to realise that animal instinct were attached with their latest organs and that England, no matter how embarrassing it was for her to admit it, was in heat.

England's stomach growled-she was hungry as was India for that matter.

"If you want I'll go make us some food," India mutters through a yawn- he didn't think thirty rounds would tire him so much, surely it was every guy's dream to just laze in bed all day having sex with the woman you love, but he had to wonder how actual lions did that for a few days at a time.

"Where I do adore your food that involves you moving and I'm comfortable," England mutters into India's neck, he shivers at the feeling of her lips, remembering where else they'd been through that day- remembering if he looked down at his chest he's find the many marks left by her lips and her teeth.

India hums his agreement vaguely- he's hungry but the bed's so comfortable and he loves having England wrapped up in his arms. He can remember their first time, he's sure he can remember their every time, the possessive touches England tried to hide- the embarrassed flush spread across her face- she eventually admitted to never being with another Nation for something other than political gain. He had smiled at her, reassured her it was fine and helped her find her footing on equal grounds- a land unknown to her before and then just holding her tight in his arms: he's always enjoyed having his arms around her, using his whole being to protect her- he'd always be willing to help her, no matter of the rough patches they'd faced together in the past.

He feels England's lips kicks his jaw as she pushes herself up a little. She looks into his brown- almost but not quite golden- eyes, before smiling and kisses his nose and forehead- the bindi that had been there having disappeared some when throughout the day- India reminds himself to look for it later, it's was a gift from Malaysia and her siblings back when they were younger. India groans as England moves up a little higher, she's looking at his ears and she leaves her bare collar bone in front of his lips- he can't resist kissing her pale flesh.

She blows gently against his ear and he moans against her flesh as his ear twitches back, they're sensitive- he can't help it.

"I thought you said you were comfortable?" he mumbles, kissing along the whole of the plain canvas- he could decorate it with henna, paint patterns and images into her flesh- he wonders whether England would find it a ticklish sensation, he's sure he could persuade her to let him find out.

"I was," she adjusts herself on him, he wants to groan at the feeling of her moving against him, but he resists it- he knows her face would flush red in embarrassment- he enjoys it when it happens, loves how red she goes, but he knows how she feels about it all- how annoyed she gets at herself afterwards- so he resists… just barely.

Her hand that had been resting against India's cheek dances its way to one of the dark orange ears. She traces the brown stripes across it gently- too gently that it feels like an annoying tingle that he wants to shake off, she lets her fingers brush back and forth against his ear for awhile- he doesn't mind; he lets her carry on ignoring the annoying feeling. She ends up rubbing the side of his ear between her thumb and her index finder.

He lets out a sound that's a cross between a moan and a purr.

"Can you actually hear with them?" She questions, momentarily forgetting about her own pair and India smiles.

"Why don't you say something and I'll see if I heard you right?" She smiles as she mutters something into his ear- he smiles and tugs her down- so they're eye to eye.

"Love you too."

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_So, first things first if you didn't notice that's their National animals. Tiger for India, Lion for England and Markhor for Pakistan (and if you're wondering the whole world has indeed been turned slightly into their national animal party and yes they all blame England because as India thought, who is the first person you blame on magical mishaps?) Lions mate 20-40 times a day for a number of days when in heat, it's practically the same for Tigers… well slightly different but not greatly so (there's just not really a limit to how many times a day and as India wandered the way lions work is a lioness has more than one mate throughout being on heat- that's how it goes on for so long through one day)._

_Second thing that needs to be said sure it's like a few minutes past mid-night in England, but in America? Well not so much there is it? O this was TOTALLY updated on the 7__th__!_

_-Coughs- Anyways this one is for "nightingale27" I hope you enjoy, you wandered how I portray India (and Portugal but that's for another fanfic) and I have to say I get annoyed when people portray him (her, seeing as they enjoy making him a her which makes NO sense to me) hating England… Now this doesn't sit well with me for a number of reasons but the BIG one is out of the countries the one country that my mind instantly thinks peaceful and forgiving is India (I mean I know he has nuclear weapons and all that, but he really is the only Nation I could think that doesn't let things like hatred, etc. cloud his judgement). Also think of it like this if these two didn't meet then two of their favourite things wouldn't be available to them whenever they want (if you're wandering tea for England and cricket for India)._

_Anyways –coughs- one last thought I was thinking on what the pairing would be called (it's my favourite pairing at the moment, sadly there's only fan art of the two appearing and not LOTS of it DX) and only three names came to mind: tea and biscuit, jewel and crown OR Tigon/Liger (depending on who tops XP)_

_Anyways, I'm signing off- is tired- coursework was handed in today as well which is why this is slightly late- my fingers hurt has been typing ALL day! And do you note that's the first time I've actually had a Nation say that to England through these stories?_


	8. Netherlands

_Back to normal male England this chapter and because I forgot to mention it last chapter England lost the gun from Germany near the end of the First World War, through the actual hinted at mustard gas attack- she was blind and kind of dropped the gun: Belgium found poor blind England- took her to her neutral brother's house, where Netherlands proceed to get her Empire and/or France to pick her up without Germany realising (though England protested greatly as she didn't want to be a burden to the others, but per usual Netherlands ignored her and did what was best for all their interests)–nods head- Make perfectly sense now right? And it's ironic slightly but oh well!_

_Onwards to…_

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**.Netherlands.**

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English pride was a horrible thing- it meant he couldn't bloody well yell at Netherlands for every stupid thing that he would usually complain and yell about- this glorious revolution was _killing_ him. It wasn't really particularly horrible: just a few changes- a foreign King, a calm political office, a sense of being owned.

He hated it.

King of Orange. His new King had previously been Netherlands' King of Orange. England's never been an orange person in both colour and fruit; he'd rather have a red apple any day- but now everything's white and orange.

Mary was elated. He guesses that was the plus side. Anne's glad to see her Father gone and her sister back- even better. They're genuinely happy in their marriages- England finds it amusing seeing as they complained endlessly to England before both of their marriages. _Why does Uncle decide who we marry? Can't I be like the Good Queen Bess and marry you?_

He obviously declined. Explained what would be better for them and him. He just never expected a couple years later being a _responsible_ adult would get him stuck under Dutch control. He hasn't liked Netherlands in years- plenty of wars and drowning could do that to you (he curses the day Netherlands found out he couldn't swim- the amount of times he's gone down with his ship).

But that doesn't matter anymore now does it?

_Apparently not. _

The Glorious Revolution is _wonderfu_l according to Netherlands, something _inspiring_, they have _allies_ in Europe now… England grits his teeth at that- he has Portugal and Sweden and it's _easy_ to make new allies- England's _always_ making new allies. It's the eternal curse of being an island separated from a power hungry Continent (and England can assure you he's not fussed with power, if he needs it to get what he wants then go ahead give him a couple bottles full- preferably rum shaped bottles, but his love and desires belongs to his gold. The precious yellow that shines brightly- he _hates_ the fact Spain got all the colonies with his love and joy… but well as long as he has his tea he's sure he can cope- for now).

That's according to Netherlands though. England has his pride- he hates his pride being destroyed by this foreign invasion, but he has his actual _English pride_. There's a difference England would assure you. His own personal pride- hates losing, his English pride stops him from making a remark about anything discomforting- chin up, head down and all that.

He really wants to hit Netherlands- revolution he calls it, a glorious one at that: it's all propaganda, his men know this yet they all stick to their National pride- their code of honour, grit your teeth and smile through the pain- don't grumble, don't complain. An invasion will be over in a matter of hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades… maybe even centuries- but their pride? That'll never snap.

Or at least that's what England believes, but then he's introduced to _Dutch courage_.

He has a pint of gin- really the stuff's kinda foul, but his grimace is masked with a grateful smile, he's brilliant at keeping his masks up as long as a Nation- let's say France for example- didn't need a damn good thrashing. But England has had a couple of drinks… maybe _a lot_ of drinks with Netherlands: he actually _had_ to interact with him sometimes- sadly. It's Netherlands' King that has forced the diabolical drink on him with that stupid unlicensed Gin Bill and then putting taxes on all his nice foreign drinks and really if they were going to force the drink onto him at least give his people a recipe to work from.

But as it is, Netherlands _hasn't_ given his people the recipe of this forced upon drink, he _hasn't_ confessed to this being an invasion- swearing it's a revolution and he _hasn't_ been yelled at once… It's England's fault for the last one.

So, it's as they drink away- England's stiff upper lip becomes a little looser than he'd like, it's as they drink away that England remembers the joys of being a pirate- always at the rum, with the sea crashing against everything and surrounding them- he likes the sea. And it's as he's there he screams, yells and above all gets _even_ with Netherlands- sod his English pride, he _needed_ to vent.

In a drunken stupor he forces Netherland's onto the ground- a startled Netherlands groans and questions what England's doing. He crouches down- above Netherlands; it's wonderful to be above another Nation- it's exhilarating.

"You and your _fucking_ invasion, your _fucking_ foreign attitude, you're _fucking_ ignorance of…" Arms are thrown everywhere- begging for words to come to their master. "_Everything_!"

England's hands grip Netherland's shoulders- all his strength put into pinching and harming the flesh- and leans in close to the other Nation's face. There's the smell of gin- just tons and tons of gin- it makes England feel queasy and sick and he's not sure what happens throughout the rest of the night- maybe he feel unconscious, maybe he did something he'd regret, maybe he and Netherlands set aside their differences- their century worth of differences (at least it wasn't as bad as France's).

But England remembers waking up- it was… eventful. And he remembers discovering the tulip left with a scrawled note from Netherlands:

_Maybe you should remember who saved you from becoming France's pet dog before you go complaining. Do you want to be Catholic again?_

And he England curses, groans and glares at nothing. That lucky stupid bastard- if only he had another Protestant Nation that could help him against Spain and France… But alas… He doesn't… That's why he hates life sometimes…

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_Looking back I'm not sure if you can consider this them together as a pairing- but I've always been interested in the Revolution vs. Invasion debate that involves these two Nations at this time, so this what came out and it's too late to turn back now! _

_This one has been written for "RedWolf95" (complain if it's not quite what you expected), I wanted to write something simple today and I know these two's history quite well (too well I couldn't figure WHICH era to work with!) But I went with this time, their technically "marriage" period, Mary 2 being England's Queen and William 3 being Netherlands King (the Orange one). And he liked gin and made weird not quite but kind of bans of other alcoholic beverages._

_I can't be bothered to think anymore and once again I didn't do my history catch up work even though I told my teacher I finished it two/three weeks ago… I wonder if telling him I forgot it again will work… or if I could bolt out the room without being noticed again XD (My friend will complain about me being ill on Monday again as well DX)_

_-Sighs- Anyways, I've enjoyed your comments so much! Especially the long rant-y ones, it's more fun when the comments are gigantic! And I send my love to all who have reviewed (especially those who have reviewed either every chapter or almost every chapter you need LOTS and LOTS of love- seriously!) And 30 comments so far! If we keep up at this rate- which we probably won't because things ALWAYS get in the way) I'll so reach 100 before Christmas- that would be amazing- though slightly awkward as I give my 50__th__ reviewer a fanfic in return… Surely that's crazy to do with this fanfic? … Oh well!_

_Well enjoy and stuff… I'm tired again and the internet keeps turning itself off… Oh God… stop it… internet come back- come on for 5 minutes, be alive for FIVE MINUTES- if this gets up you know the internet decided to be nice, if this doesn't get up until tomorrow blame the stupid flipping internet! (You know on the weekend I might try updating early so I don't FACE THESE PROBLEMS DX)_


	9. Liechtenstein

_The weathers been awful in England (because of Scotland's awful storm), the winds have been so strong, that my friend was on the bus and the windscreen wipe was torn off- the whole bus/driver were absolutely shocked XD We're suddenly thrown into super cold winds- I mean it was already cold but now it's stupidly so and Rain is coming and going even more unpredictably than usual… and it's COLD rain… FREEZING RAIN! (And my brother seems to be getting rushed over to the hospital , but can't get an ambulance because Winchester's hospitals gone out or something so our ambulances are helping deal with that and there's none spare because of it- so please excuse the probably shortness of this chapter!)_

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**.Liechtenstein.**

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She had never knitted before. Her brother, Switzerland had taught her a lot of things like cross stitching and embroidery and she knew a few things herself before she met him, but she's never knitted or made clothes- she wants to make her brother some more clothes- as a thanks and she just enjoys spoiling her older brother.

Switzerland likes England- or well he likes England as much as he can without accidently over stepping his neutrality- England helped Switzerland keep his neutrality a couple of times over the centuries apparently- helped with making trains. Switzerland didn't like England's colonist ways but he enjoys the civil company which is apparently scarce across Europe and someone who's willing to help when the surrounding Nations are being too pushy without asking for anything else in return.

So it's because Switzerland likes England that England finds himself invited to their house. There's tea and snacks that Switzerland made- they're having it in the garden. _England enjoys the scenery_, Switzerland had explained earlier in the day.

Liechtenstein isn't fussed with all the political stuff and sits outside at the table that Switzerland had sorted for them, all unscrewed up on the table in front of her is the thread, she has both needles awkwardly in hand and tries to have the first knot in the knitting. She concentrates on what's she's doing- ignoring everything else around her- she _really_ wants to do this for her brother.

"My favourite thing about you visiting is that you keep the Italies away," Switzerland remarks- smile on his lips as they enter his garden.

"I still really don't understand why they always run away," England rolls his eyes- he's never done anything to _them_ personally- only those around them and there were plenty of reasons for that!

"They're Italian," Switzerland grumbles and sighs- England shakes his head in amusement, before looking out across the scenery.

"As breath-taking as always Switzerland… Though I'm sure you didn't have a girl living with you before," he rises one bushy eyebrow up as Switzerland's face flushes brightly.

"It's not like that! She's my sister- Liechtenstein!" He yells and drags England over as though to make a point. "See!" He points at the similar hair style and England smiles amused, while Liechtenstein looks up startled.

"Ah… Brother," she nods to him a smile on her face and turns to look at England- he's taller than her and has crazy blonde hair, large bushy eyebrows, and energetic emerald eyes. "And you must be England?"

"Yes," he watches what she has in hand and smiles. "You know if you hold them like," he directs her hands into the right position- Liechtenstein's face flushes red, while Switzerland reaches for his gun.

"England- I may find you more tolerable than others, but touching my little sister in anyway," he cocks his gun as England looks over startled.

"Wait- I was just-" And there's no explanation good enough is all Switzerland's eyes promise as England slowly pulls away from Liechtenstein- while all she thinks is that she should probably ask England to help her knit, because he was right- it's much easier to knit that way…

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_Sorry it's a small chapter- I shall write a big chapter tomorrow to make up for it- for now enjoy the tiny snippet- I originally wanted to write something about being able to buy Liechtenstein for 40,000 (pounds, dollars, Euros or whatever) for a night, but well that just made me think of prostitution and come on Little Liechtenstein couldn't do stuff like that!_

_Anyways I've seemingly been having a horrid half term due to illness and lots of other stuff like injuries and that, but I still seem to be doing ok with this… for now XP And I hope you enjoy this short chapter "Skadiyoko" it totally came out even shorter than planned so… well hope it's alright!_

_Enjoy and that lot- I'm sleeping now! Bye!_


	10. The United Kingdom

_Warning the following chapter contains OCs that represent The United Kingdom of Great Britain (and both Irelands because at one point or another they were both a parts were once a part of the UK so no angry Irish people- my Irish friend gets angry enough at me for referring to the Irish as British for the whole Irish population, I promise you), to some of you this shouldn't come about as a shock as I know about half of you have read my other stories and have the UK sibling stories on your favourite/alert list and some of you have even commented on them… Well explanations will appear at the end… Now onwards to GLORY…_

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**. The United Kingdom.**

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**.Wales.**

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They lie beside each other. The grass is long and practically hides them from view of anyone one who wants to pass by. Wales' sheep frolic across the field- England's still worried that the herd is getting bigger and bigger each time, what was his brother's obsession with sheep in the first place? He'd understand if it was for eating- lamb was quite nice, but to keep as _pets_? Give him a dog or cat any day.

"So Scotland's joining us now?" Wales questions, eyes closed, but his eyes are screwed up together- he's not sure how he feels about this whole United Union- England's all up for it, he hates France always collaborating with his brother- oh God he doesn't want to think of what France and his grimy fingers have probably done to him, Scotland's a little worried, but at least a tad grateful for the financial stability, but he's not deluding himself into thinking this is a good thing- he has to be English… British… they're practically the same thing nowadays…

"Yep," England's voice has a smile in it- no more useless worrying, no more fights over borders, no more questioning where his brother would appear next and what he'd do to kill him next- oh it was good to live without problems!

"Oh…" Wales feels he should enjoy having another of his brother's together, but admittedly England's been making tons of new brothers and sisters in new lands and he quite liked being the only "old" brother he could rely on and talk too… but now…

"He's not going to do something stupid, is he? I mean remember when he pushed you off the cliff? Or when he got so drunk he mistook me for France? And how the hell did he DO that? I look nothing like France!" Wales sighs. "And he isn't going to do something like when the two of you fought in the borders wars, right? And what if he abandons us for France AGAIN?"

England grabs hold of Wales' hand, strokes soothing circles into it. Wales' face flushes but is hid behind the long grass- hidden, a secret.

"We can forgive him if he does anything, just like how you've forgiven me for taking over your land…" England smiles, Wales smiles. And nothing seems bad for the time being, things might look bleak but they can't last like that forever, right?

"Right…"

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**.Scotland.**

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Scotland was slouched forward, hands clutching his head tightly, practically pulling his red hair out; he had his green eyes closed tightly. No one dared approach him; all were far too scared of the Scot that represented their Nation. He was in pain… a lot of pain… and he was far too willing to take it out on anyone who even approached him.

And, some poor soul found their self strolling towards the Scot. Their footsteps far too cocky and bouncy for his liking; he felt the presence of another Nation… a Nation he'd rather not catch him in the pitiful state he was in at the moment.

The steps stopped in front of him, he saw boots and the end of a red coat that trailed just above the floor; he heard the oh so familiar voice whistle.

"Scotland, ye falling apart!" the voice edged with a mixture of amusement, worry and shock.

"I blame you for this," Scotland managed to bite out, while looking up at his younger brother England, the man in question wearing a completely amused expression, though his eyes were frowning and he had his hands on his hips.

"I'm pretty sure ye Monarchy started our little wars by siding with France, and ye know I've always hated that bastard!" England growled slightly as Scotland stood up a little shaky on his feet but up nonetheless.

"No, you started this all off Arthur," Scotland glared so tempted to hit his brother but resisting the urge… barely…

"Oh? Me? How did I start all this off?"

"Your Monarchy went and started everything off by claiming to own me!" Scotland growled, England opened his mouth to protest, but shrugged and smiled.

"Whatever ye say Scotland," he patted his brother's cheek almost affectionately, almost mockingly- neither word quite right. Before walking away, Scotland glares, why the fuck did England come here- he didn't gloat, he didn't argue nor fight. In anger he grabs his departing brother's wrist.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going!" He grows, eyes lighting up in rage as England smirks back at him.

"I have bigger fry to kill than you or France right now," England's eyes take on a gleam that Scotland isn't used to seeing them- they look evil, dangerous and lustful- it's not a look he ever really wanted to see on his brother's face. "Spain's been making colonies and taking gold- now that's something I can't stand. So, I wish you and France the best, but I'm going to go and _destroy_ an annoying Spaniard. And that's the news that I came to share with ye, wonderful isn't it?"

He rips free from Scotland's grip and leaves Scotland standing there- crushing headache forgotten and wandering how serious his brother has actually been while fighting him over the years…

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**.Ireland.**

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Ireland hadn't been planning to do anything drastic. Had planned to help his brother in the Great War- had planned to keep his brother safe and prove he wasn't just going to abandon him- was planning to work for his home rule- for God's sake if the Great War had happened a year later he _would_ have his Home Rule and would've happily joined England in the war with no problem. But, it's just each promise of "the war will end before Christmas" was tormenting some of his people… Not even some, he could count the few on one hand, it's just even one of his people could be loud… a few was all it took to make it seem like something revolutionary was going on.

It _wasn't_ for the record.

But they took over the post office- it was a stupid move. And his ever so sensitive brother took offence- they were in a war for bloody sake; he didn't have _TIME_ for rebels. He had them killed, when they managed to scare them out of the building- no one in Ireland wanted them ruining their chance at Home Rule… No wanted them dead either.

There was a _horrible_ uproar.

"You _KILLED_ them! They're _MY_ people! You fucking murderer! We've been fighting for so God Damn long! I thought we were finally getting along! I bloody well have been helping you with all your God forsaken politics! I helped you stop the House of Lord's veto! I helped your stupid Liberal Government get Bills for your fucking poorest through! You _SHOULD'VE_ given me my bloody Home Rule by now! Those people _should_ be _MINE_ and _MINE_ alone- they _ARE MINE _and _MINE_ alone! You _CAN'T _just _KILL_ them! I don't _WANT_ to see your face anymore! Why the fucking hell are you even _HERE_?"

Turns out he needed more troops for _HIS_ war.

Ireland's people didn't like that- they didn't agree. They _HAD_ wanted Home Rule, they _HAD_ wanted to stay a part of the British Empire just with control of their own land and identity, they _HAD_ wanted to get along with the English. Those were just silly childish dreams now- they were never going to be anything, but now… they wanted complete and utter freedom now- the English COULDN'T be forgiven.

The IRA was born on these broken dreams.

England never knew how to deal with rebels. It's why he's caused so many horrible situations- some Nations were able to forgive him easily, some are still plagued with the endlessly worrying dreams of what he's done. Ireland- although his brother can't help but cry as his people are raped, brutally beaten and murdered, he guesses England took more traits from his old captors than he likes to admit.

England doesn't take the blame claiming the Black and Tans weren't following proper orders.

He doesn't do anything about them at first though. His people aren't happy with the treatment sure- but England's never been stable with independent Nations, so he's not in a hurry to stop everything. But Ireland sees the guilt- maybe it's because their brothers, he also sees the relish- maybe it's because Ireland never did anything for England when they were younger and he sees the insanity… that was probably the power. Ireland almost pities him, almost… not quite though, he take one of the guns he used to help England in the Great War the next morning and watches from an old ladies house- she wants freedom, she takes in refugees.

He has the gun held tightly in his hand, he notices the police officers- they're Irish but protestant Irish. Ireland doesn't consider the Protestants Irish anymore… they're British- English and they're talking to one of the men who raped and killed one of his girls last night. He takes aim, finger on the trigger.

"_Oh, come out you Black and Tans;_

_Come out and fight me like a man;_

_Show your wife how you won medals__ down in Flanders__;_

_Tell her how the__ I.R.A. __made you run like hell away_

_From the green and lovely lanes in__ Killeshandra__."_

And for his people he pulls the trigger. He kills one of England's men, one of his own with his own hands. A tear falls down his face- it feels horrible… but he smiles- this was for _his_ freedom and for _HIS_ people…

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**.Northern Ireland.**

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North has a cigarette- he shouldn't, he stole it from Scotland, Scotland's blaming Ireland and yelling at him. But, no North is the one who has it and is sitting outside the Kitchen window with it held between his fingers; he shouldn't have it on him. He also has England's lighter- it's has a rose engraving on it, custom made- quite nice, he shouldn't have that on him either.

He flicks it open and the flame jumps to life, only to blow out instantly because of the cold and harsh winds. He shuts it and opens it again it starts only to be blown out instantly- once again. He's in a sleeveless top- it's snowing, he's almost tempted to let the fire lick his skin warm, shouldn't do that either- maybe he should then, he has been ignoring the dangers in what he's been doing lately.

Why is he doing it? He hasn't a clue- he feels rebellious, maybe it's because of his people- rioting… maybe he's just going through a stage.

He puts the cigarette in his mouth, lets it hang there as he jump starts the flame again, this time using his other hand to protect the flame from the horrid wind and snow. The fire starts- it's pretty and makes the rose look as though it's been caught on fire- he doesn't like that it makes him think of England being on fire- he'd never want England to be set alight.

He lights the cigarette and flicks the lighter shut- pockets it, he doesn't want to give it back to England, wants to keep something of his in case he ever goes back to being Ireland's- he really doesn't want that… He doesn't know what he'd do if that happens… He also doesn't know what to do with the cigarette.

He takes it between two fingers and breathes some in- he coughs and chokes and takes another drag. It's horrible- he takes another. Absolutely horrible- another. But he feels relief of some kind that he's never felt before- he coughs and chokes again.

He probably shouldn't have stayed so close to the house- but it's cold and he's scared he'll get lost among the snow covered roses and never find his way back to the house- so it's no surprise that England cooking in the Kitchen sees the smoke billowing in the air and comes out to see what was causing it.

He takes the cigarette from him, tells him off, sprays him free of the smell and keeps it a secret from Scotland- Ireland takes the blame and North can't help but grin about that. England also doesn't comment on the lighter- let's North keep it. _I don't need nor use it anymore_, is the excuse when Wales questions why he hasn't gone looking for his lost lighter. North's happy he gets to keep it, happy England doesn't tell Scotland and Ireland about it and is thrilled that England cares enough to yell at him.

He really doesn't know what he'd do or be without England…

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_Why am I not surprised these were asked for… Really every time I do requests these four get asked for, why you insane people XD DX_

_So longer chapter as promised, but that's probably because I fused four stories in one- you know you enjoyed them. Scotland one is for HoshiUta and the Wales one is for Avalon-Avalanche and you can share the Ireland ones! Hope you both enjoyed!_

_Wales is base before Scotland joins the UK- because my mind went blank and I couldn't think of ANY Welsh history for a while. Scotland's is based on one of the many Anglo-Scots wars, I believe there was one where the English were more concerned about the Spanish and I really have completely forgotten when it was set DX The Ireland one is my favourite, I'm sure you all know of the IRA, but how did England originally fight back? With the Black and Tans (called so because their uniforms were a mixture of the police and army's), also Ireland was meant to be given Home Rule, as promise, like a month after WW1 started thus it got delayed again and I shan't give you all the details to THAT story because there's a lot of stuff going on- and Ireland quoted a poem about the Black and Tans at the end by the way! Also as an afterthought I don't like the IRA (though I understand why it all started) they killed one of my favourite Lords- the one who sorted out India and Pakistan's independence, and I know lots of fun stories about him and his wife because my Nan's friend used to be a maid there (and because of that she got to meet prince Phillip once XD)! And I got fed up with history and just threw something random together for North, so I hope you all enjoyed!_

_The brother is fine now by the way- well kinda has some tablets to help. The weather wasn't TOO horrible today, though random rain again and frost was everywhere and when I passed this old lady today (because my Mother has been sending me EVERYWHERE to do stuff today) I smiled and nodded at her (as I do to anyone I pass) and she yelled: "BLOODY WEATHER!" So I politely yelled back: "I KNOW!" I found that quite hilarious! Um… Um… Again hope you enjoyed… this chapter is being put up earlier than the last few ones and isn't nearly as rushed and someone said they're worried I'll run out of ideas- probably won't because I enjoy rare pairs and know England's history FAR TOO WELL! The thing you need to worry for is if I'm to have time for things next week as 1 week left of crazy college stuff DX_

_Anyways, enjoy review, read (as I'm sure you have seeing as you got this far) and all that jazz!_


	11. Russia

_I am finally feeling better! Let's hope I can actually concentrate on a chapter properly now then! This chapter is for Olliebax9, I was originally not planning on doing this character for awhile, but well I had an idea so I went with it. This chapter contains dark themes- like violence and all that terrifying stuff and Female!England, so onwards to…_

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**.Russia.**

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Her wrist had been caught in a horrible hold. A bruising hold. It was such a crushing hold she's sure she could feel Russia's bones and that he could feel hers… no he definitely could, her wrists are small- she's still not a hundred percent from the Second World War and she's been giving her colonies their independence, she's weak now and it shows very well in her wrists- the wrists that used to be able to snatch Denmark's axe from him and swing it behind her- they're now small bony and can hardly hold up the gun she's been assigned with.

She can't fight him off.

She turns and faces his terrifying violet eyes- she thought she had forgotten how to be scared for herself: World War 2, as the bombs crashed down all she could think of was how she hoped her Colonies were alive and eating well- how the European countries exiled to her land had managed to get to a shelter. She thought she had forgotten how to be scared for herself.

But she's terrified as her emerald eyes meet those ghost like violet ones.

She sees General Winter wrapped around Russia's neck, his icy touch only touching Russia- but she feels the chill- she shivers from it. She has never liked the cold; it's always terrified her, what if it decided to freeze her over? Lock her away from everyone one else?

Would they come and save her? She really doubts it. Her disappearance would be relished- her Colonies completely free of her grasp, her allies glad to be rid of another Nation and does she really have to say how her enemies would react? No. But she knows they'd have a party- celebrate her disappearance, but she wouldn't really be gone- she doesn't have someone who can take over her land, so her land, her people are fresh for the taking- no one there to protect them from darker forces.

It's a chill she associates with the icy waves of the ocean. She loves the sea, but that's a lover that would never pay those who adore her enough attention- believing that there's plenty of her to go around- the kind of lover that sneaks out and goes dancing with others, flirting with others- committing adultery. And sneaking back into your bed the next morning, hands as cold as ice sneak around your waist and pull you close. Neither of you comment, you ignore the night's worry- it won't happen the next night after all. But of course it does and you feel cold, your soul hardens you don't think you can love another.

That's the kind of chill. That's the kind of lover Russia would be.

England doesn't like that. It's why she's friends with Portugal- he's warm, nice, smiles brightly- they complain together about the good old days that are slowly leaving them both to make room for newer Nations. It's why India's the jewel to her crown- he makes her the hottest foods that leave a burn in her mouth- he smiles at her in that honest way he does and "kisses" it better- leaving her flushed and almost breathless. It's why she goes to Spain for holiday, her old enemy's oblivious smile as he hugs her in greeting, he laughs as he takes her to the beach, jokes about the time he saved her from drowning only to be stabbed in thanks. It's why a majority of her Empire was built in sunny Nations, it used to make her sad to go back to her own land- she'd spend most of her time with them or at sea- anything to stay as far from her own cold island.

Russia smiles his creepy smile, as England panics. She's not cold like Russia- she could never be. His insane child-like smile, his mocking violet eyes, his colourless hair… they're all things England can't bear to be.

"I've come for Poland," he tilts his head in the same fashion a toddle would to watch a spider climb up their wall to their ceiling- complete curiosity.

England had kept Poland at her house, after he had insistently asked for it. _I can't go back! Russia will kill me_! He had cried; England's never been good with tears- having stopped crying herself for some century's now- she couldn't afford to cry, she didn't want pity- she wanted to win her Empire without pity playing a part in it. So, she awkwardly let him stay at her house, promised she wouldn't let anything happen to him, kept him a secret.

Maybe it wasn't as secret as she wanted to believe.

"I'm sorry Russia, but I haven't seen Poland for awhile now," she lies, fake smile building its way across her face.

"Umm?" Russia hums, looking through his coat from something, he pulls out a photo and brandishes it for England to see: it's an image of Poland and England together discussing things- it's from the other day. "My spies tell me otherwise."

Russia smiles, slowly approaching England- it's a terrifying image, Russia approaching and she… she freezes. It's the most unlikely thing- she's survived through much worse, has betrayed those she loves the most with a smile on her face, but one Nation- albeit a giant one- approaching makes her freeze.

She's not proud of herself. But she trembles as he walks so close they're practically one figure. He smiles, before pulling her wrist so hard she falls to the ground- the Russian looking even taller from the ground. She's still frozen in some deluded dream- maybe this isn't happening?

"Where is Poland, comrade?" Russia questions, kneeling down, he's crouched over her thighs- she's not liking where this is going. She swallows hard.

"I haven't seen Poland in a _long_ while now…" She promises. It's a lie- he's in the very house they are she just hopes he doesn't get discovered.

Using her wrist he pulls tightly, flipping her so I face is pushed deeply into the harsh carpet and pulls her arm so far back that her eyes go wide- she wants to scream. She bites her lip silencing any horrible sounds- if Poland hears her scream he'll come in, if Russia hears her yell he'll think of her as a weak toy to play with- he enjoys his toys to be obedient- England's never been very obedient to invaders.

"Where's Poland, comrade?" He questions again, her arm is tugged further up her back- some more bones break- she thinks her joints are completely gone. More bruises.

"Poland is _NOT_ here!" She howls as her arm is tugged again- hopefully the Nation in question would hear and run away from the house. "He's not here! He's not here! And even if he was I wouldn't hand him over to some violent pig like you!"

She bites her lips so hard- her teeth rip through flesh and her mouth starts bleeding, her free hand switches between hit Russia's leg and scratching her own flesh- any pain is better than feeling her bones break _EVEN MORE_. She's sweating, a hot flush and it's so painful… Her vision starts blackening.

She freezes as she hears Poland's voice, getting closer to the room- she wants to curse, yell at him to get as far away as possible and then… then there's a dreadful sound… She… She hears…

She hears metal- a gun? A pipe?

She stops herself from crying and screaming, but she feels the hit- she feels herself being dropped to the floor, she feels blood, she hears Russia leaving footsteps as well as a pair of scared and rushed ones… He heard Poland… didn't he?

She wakes up much later. India smiles down at her- more like grimaces- frowns… he tries to hide it behind a smile, she's never seen India look quite as disturbed so she assumes she looks quite bad. She hears some other Commonwealth Nations running around in panic.

"Thank god you're alright…" India sighs, his fingers brush through her hair. "You're lucky Russia's spies found out about you being attacked and Russia phoning us…"

And it's then with India looking after her, with Russia's "heroic" lie protecting him and her good friend Poland being sent to the butcher house. That England's eyes go wide and she can't help but cry and howl out a half broken wail. India looks just as surprised as she does- she hasn't cried in years and especially for herself- but he holds her tight, surrounds her in his warmth and she isn't like Russia and he hasn't got his ice cold fingers on her- she's safe for now…

But… for how long was now?

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_I really should stop letting the Commonwealth sneak into these stories- but it's hard because you know… It's ENGLAND and what would she be without her Colonies/Commonwealth?_

_Right so in WW2 Poland's Government was put in exile to England and because of Russia's Cold War phase they had to remain in exile in England, but after some unique events Poland's Government in exile were forced to quit because of Russia. Also India was neutral in the Cold War (as were a few of England's other ex-Colonies like Egypt and Pakistan), but India actually had good relations with Russia (like half the Commonwealth) and would have probably joined his side if he wasn't fighting against England. Now if you've seen the film: "Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy" you'd know that the Cold War had some HORRIBLE things going on and what happened to England (her right arm is completely broken and her head's been smashed open by the way) is pretty harmless compared to some things. _

_But yeah India and some other Commonwealth Nations (such as Seychelles) still have quite/very good relations with Russia still- now with that in mind there was no way I could make Russia beat up England and for England to you know go off and tell others what happened. So I decided Russia made it seem like he was the good guy, by phoning the Commonwealth and saying what had happened and England feeling like she can't tell them in case they'd rather side with Russia, so she stays quiet and Russia gets away with it (well admittedly America wins over all so maybe not so much) and England's fear of Russia increasing ten times the amount. I do wonder how they'd react if they found out though XP_

_Anyways hope you enjoyed!_


	12. Portugal

_So I've noticed the last few chapters haven't been that relationship-y, as a good friend of mine also pointed out –gives her the Barrowmen fist of glory-(also punishment for reminding what I already know is leaving certain aspects of the story to your imagination again- though admittedly that's how I like writing stories like this so I would have anyway XD) so to counteract this I decided to use a more "romantic" couple with England so I went around a hunting on Wikipedia to decide what era I should write about them in and came across a BRILLIANT sentence, that I shall tell you at the end, to base this chapter on… Also! My friend Milli found me (I've been hiding my account from you for a reason, you're going to tease me mercilessly for my writing I know DX) and apparently I type how I speak… And so it was easy to prove that it was very much me… I'm worried if I speak as badly as I type… and apparently she might be editing my awful grammar… which is what she does in real life… Oh god… I can't escape her in real life, I can't escape her in my gaming life and NOW… I can't escape her in my fan-fiction life… DX (I'm joking Milli, I'm joking) Anyways onwards too…_

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**.Portugal.**

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England rolls his eyes when he docks. Portugal waits for him, grin in place, roses around him and his guitar playing loudly and obnoxiously as England strolls down from his ship to his friend.

"Port," England says trying to keep a straight face, when he hears Portugal singing about how he'd rather be married to the English than the Spanish- _really_ the random things he'll say when playing a random tune… not that England didn't find what he was singing was sweet… or endearing… no… Not at all!

"_Inglaterra_!" Portugal half cheers- half sings as he strums his last note, puts the guitar back on the crate he was sitting on and jumps to his feet- capturing England in a hug, not a bone crushing hug, but one that would surely be hard to escape from if not from Portugal's strength when determined then from the pure devotion radiating from it.

England wraps his own arms around Portugal's waist, leans his head against his brunette friend's shoulder and breathes in the sea salt smell that always lingered on Portugal- a genuine smile splayed across his face. Portugal's arms lazy and snugly wrapped around England's shoulders play with the random tuffs of blonde hair that needed cutting back, as he leans his chin of the blonde nest of hair- such perfect hair when it came to needing somewhere to lean against.

They had missed each other. First there had been the Spain incident; then there had been the Netherlands incident… and the pirate incident… and the whole blocking England from getting to Asia thing. _I didn't want you to start your own rival company_, Portugal had explain fingers running along England's cheek, _I wanted you to use me for trade- wanted you to rely on me again_.

But that was then and a lot of stuff has happened since then. Sure Spain was still very much there and still very much cynical (well an oblivious kind of cynical) to everything that involved England and Portugal in the same sentence, but their relationship was improving- their colonies trust worthy to align together in the face of danger from other colonists. Trade was starting back up after Spain's blocking and all the fights with Netherlands and they're on good terms again- England' so bloody thankful that Portugal accepted his apology about the whole pirate era and the whole stealing thing. Truly he was- especially as he was trying to be good now, trying to stick to being a merchant. Merchants could get plenty of gold and it was LEGAL- no more being thrown to the gallows for him.

Portugal's glad England can overlook the whole Spain thing; Spain's always being there- being everywhere. Portugal got fed up of his brother's possessive grip- his oblivious optimism… Portugal can't deal with idealistic optimism, it's probably one of the reasons he enjoys England's company- the angry rants, the truthful words, the cynical attitude that makes you not aim high and then get a thrill when you end up getting better than what was predicted. He _loves_ that about England.

Of course he loves England's body as well. And England's flushed face when he gets embarrassed. And England's face when he knows where everything's leading towards- there's either a smug glint, that promises retribution or a fight for dominance, or sometimes there's an adorable surprised look that makes England's bottom lip jut out in an almost pout that makes Portugal want to kiss them and bruise them from overexposure to _his_ touch.

Portugal can't helps that his hands slip down England's back, glide against his sides without worry or embarrassment and then take a cheeky grope at his arse. England jumps in surprise, jumps into Portugal.

"Port what are you-"

"Missed you," Portugal mutters into England's ear, kissing, biting and licking the flesh around it as his hands rubs teasing circles into England behind- he really missed everything about England- the delightful frown line that had made itself apparent between England's endearing eyebrows, the way his pale flesh burns in the sun and his eye squint forward trying to avoid the sunlight only to have his eyelashes gleam in the light that was blinding him.

He loves everything about England- the good, the bad. He has to question how he survived without getting a touch in, a brush of fingers, a long embrace, a kiss…

He pulls back slightly, looks into emerald eyes before leaning down- lips brush lips. Gently at first, testing grounds, reminding their selves of the territory long lost and almost forgotten. It's not too long until pale fingers find their selves wandering through the uncharted confines of Portugal's long curly brown hair- he plucks the ribbon loose, letting the locks fall forward, framing Portugal's face- hiding their kiss from any rude onlookers- not that it wasn't obvious even with the curtain of hair. Tongues brush pass lips and another answers honestly and with forgotten promises- they stumble into the tango they had almost lost.

Flushed and out of breath England pulls back, Portugal grinning lazy and England looking a mix of want and business. He pulls out of Portugal's grip.

"I… have to sort out the… cargo… And set my men up for the night… I'll- I'll go visit your house afterwards and…" Emerald eyes look away embarrassedly. "I'll be yours for the night?"

He scurries off without waiting for Portugal's response. Portugal grins, sitting back down- waiting for England; he's not leaving without him. He picks his guitar back up, strums a tune and sings loudly about his lover who he's waiting for. Many come and many go listening to his joyous little tune and welcoming it.

"Your wife must be very lucky to have you," one women comments, sighing. "I wish my husband did that."

Portugal smiles and continues the song about his "wife" who listens from his ship, face flushed and barking out orders quicker than he's sure he's able too. He needs to stop Portugal's singing as soon as possible and _then_ enjoy the only welcomed company…

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_So that line I was promising you:_

**1654**: The Anglo-Portuguese treaty between João IV and Oliver Cromwell was signed at Westminster. João agreed **to prevent the molestation of English traders in Portugal** _(so they were molested in the first place, eh?) _and its possessions; they were allowed to use their own bible and to bury their dead according to Protestant rites even though they were on Catholic soil.

_Amusing eh? Anyways hope you enjoyed the chapter can't be bothered to talk lots here today… Other than the fact that today was the day parents talk to teachers, so my Mother was surrounded with the she/he is lovely BUT when talking about me and my brother- though my but was about me being ill and they got annoyed because I always happened to miss on the lessons that were most helpful to me in particular XD Anyways, Live here is signing off, hope you enjoyed today's chapter and your day!_


	13. Spain

_Happy Birthday Olliebaz9, enjoy the birthday gift and Christmas chapter XP_

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**.Spain.**

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"_Inglaterra_!" A Spanish voice cheers out, England tries to convince himself that it could belong to anyone and not necessarily an annoying Spaniard he knows- after all he _has_ been thrown into a Spanish prison. Turning around- slowly, cautiously- he comes across tan skin, eerie olive eyes and tussled brown hair.

He doesn't enjoy the joyous smile sent his way so he glares, blares his teeth in the most basic of primitive actions and growls with the back of his throat. Spain laughs.

"_Inglaterra_, has the cat cut your tongue… as you say?" England ignores Spain's misuse of his language and enjoys the random blood splatters across the room- really the Spanish knew how to decorate torture chambers perfectly!

"Or…" Spain purrs, eyes lit in admiration of his and his people's work. "Has your punishment for being a naughty little Nation left you speechless?"

There's a hangman's noose tied around England's neck- was there from yesterday when he was hung from the gallows. The rope rubs harshly across pale flesh burning it raw… In all honesty England can stand the burning sensation of rope as it continues to brush none too kindly across his skin whenever he moves; it's the parchment that's been tucked under the horrid rope that's infuriating him. He wants to remove it- he can cope with the rope; the reminder of Spain's torment and his need for revenge, but the parchment… For God's sake why did they tie his arms?

"Go… Fuck… Your… Self…" England breathes out, each word causing friction that he'd rather never have to deal with.

Spain laughs- faking ignorance to what was said- stupid smile spread across his face.

"You really should stop all this pirating-"

"I'm… a… Privateer…" England breathes out, Spain allowing him to speak; watching him like a fat cat would a juicy meal or a fox preying on a farmer's chickens. His grin doesn't slip from place- has it _ever_ slipped from his face?

"If you stop all this pirating you wouldn't get hung all the time," Spain repeats and finishes, ignoring England's correction- his first language is Spanish after all and why would he ever need to be fluent in a mutt's language?

"Maybe… I… like… being… hung…" England coughs, a body crumbling cough that almost makes him heave blood when Spain's eyes light up and he enter England's cage, let's his boots clack in an obnoxious way as he stumbles to England's side of the cell.

"You like my people killing you?" Spain hums, seemingly almost in thought- but surely there's nothing in that head for him to actually contemplate on. "You enjoy falling with a tight rope around your throat and your documents mockingly tucked in with a message sprawled across left by me? Do you enjoy collecting the message? Keeping them hidden from our allies and enemies?"

Spain's smile almost turns affectionate as he lets his fingers cup England's chin as he kneels down so they're eye level.

"Do you enjoy the thrill of my eyes watching you as you choke? As you die?" Spain's tilting accent makes the words seductive; true… "You enjoy not knowing where you'll wake up after your body fixed itself? The fear of being caught in a cage for all to see you 'come back from the dead', or the thrill of waking tied to my bed?"

Spain pulls England towards himself. He doesn't move an inch- makes England seem like the love-drunk Nation who's been put under some kind of spell from the devil- and Spain is the devil, a stupid Catholic obsessed devil.

"You're a merchant nowadays…" Spain sighs, looking away slightly, mockingly looking thoughtful. "But a merchant can't attempt to board an enemy's ship for sex, so you switch between legal trading and illegal pirating… Both give you a thrill don't they?" Spain's olive eyes enrapture England's- they're startlingly alert, watching England's whole being. "I bet you would enjoy selling yourself to others when you're trading in spices and gold and goods…"

Spain's smile is vicious.

"I mean your precious once upon a wife was the daughter of a slut," England tries to jump Spain at that- of course his late Elizabeth would be brought up wouldn't she? Or course the pirating would be mentioned (he HAD been trying to steal some of Spain's ships- he can't help himself to the gold)! And of course everything talked about would be insulting- when was it NOT!

"I'll take your fucking hea-" he chokes and coughs blood this time, staining his lips red, as the rope cuts in deeper- Spain holds one end of the hangman noose, he looks at England's withering form in curiosity as the blonde falls into his chest.

"I didn't know pulling the rope would get you to be quiet…" Spain hums- sounding enthralled. "I know you like to argue _Inglaterra_, but I'd enjoy your mouth doing more productive things, like kissing as I show you what your Queen missed out on…"

England's tugged down to the floor, hands and lips touch his body as the rope cuts into flesh. He's not sure what he recognises the most in his stupor- the insults, the choking, the gentle yet sensual touches or the paper that was being coated with his blood- would he be able to read the message Spain left across them?

Sometimes the other left him valuable information on them… and sometimes it was written almost as though they were forbidden lovers sending letters in secret… England doesn't like to admit it… but it's… endearing… and kinda sweet… and may be partly the cause that going through all this pain was worth it…

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_So I was asked to something around the pirate era, but not involving the Armada so I wanted to do something maybe on the English Armada, but was like it still involves the Armada somehow… So I ran to Wikipedia and found out THIS beaut randomly:_

"**Spanish authorities were known to execute foreign privateers with their letters of marque hung around their necks to emphasize Spain's rejection of such defences."**

_So thought, why not involve that somehow? Anyways my Mum's been in a mood and had ruined MY good mood so please excuse the awfulness of this and my lack of chatty-ness and… BLAH! Also sorry this is a little late you'll probably end up reading it the day after your birthday Ollie!_


	14. Romania

_This chapter is for someone (can't be bothered to go through the amazing 44 messages I have to find out who actually asked for this pairing)! And! I have to say I'm sorry… I enjoy vampires… there was no way I COULDN'T do this with these two! So yes no historic background just lovely, lovely vampire-ness, enjoy!_

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**.Romania.**

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They're both members of the EU, that's all there is to it, that's all the reason he needs to visit, to sink his fangs deep in his pale neck, watch in fascination as the red, oh ever so red blood caresses his pale flesh. And _then_ he'll lap it up, slowly, oh so slowly that his prey can't help but let his breath hitch- it's no fun if his prey doesn't enjoy every enticing moment.

England's the only one that willingly lets him do it, Norway would, but not without a glare or two- Hungary would if he was absolutely parched, but that was more to do with her hating him enough to not want him to find a willing blood bank- an actual friend. His blood bank comes in the form and shape of '_Dracula_'.

"It's by my brother's writer," England had grunted, expiration seeming a few dawns away. "It's _NOT_ my writer, so why are you here?"

"Because your brother isn't fond of vampires just like the rest of the world…" Romania's eyes glow crimson- England's emerald eyes meet his dead on.

"And that involves me, because…?" There's exhaustion coating his words, making him sound overly tired- Romania can't help but think it's in this tired state that he could easily coax the _Great_ British Empire's mind into understanding, he could use the power bestowed upon him for being different to MAKE England think he wants something he might not- he saves it as a back-up plan for the back-up plan.

"Ireland says you don't mind vampires at all!" Romania smiles, making sure he shows his fangs- most Nations hide at the sight- get disturbed- want to kill him: England looks at him with complete and utter amusement.

"Your fangs are smaller than most," he laughs and Romania's eyes narrow- maybe the fear he struck in others was better than _that_.

"Not my fault," Romania smashes his hand harshly onto England's "_throne_"right beside his head… his neck, the chair almost breaks under his force, almost collapses to the floor- England just smiles at him. "I represent the people and not a majority of my people ARE Vampires…"

"True, but a majority of my people _aren't _wizards and I'm perfectly fine with magic," Romania grins at that-

"That's _not_ what Norway says," he laughs. "Or a lot of Nations who have had the unfortunate pleasure of suffering your failed magic tricks."

England isn't smiling anymore- Romania is.

"Why does any of this involve me?" England growls- they've got in a full circle, but Romania doesn't mind they're back on track- he grins his most heart stealing smile.

"Because I need a willing victim," he smiles, England looks vaguely shocked, but it's somewhat hidden under a mask of disbelief. "And you can't say the idea hasn't fascinated you before."

He's chased out of England's house, but Romania's positive that England will cave and agree after all England's face flushed bright red at the mention of such fantasies, so it had to be true right? After all why would you allow your blood to rush through your body and cause that delicious flush if it wasn't? Blood doesn't lie.

England meets Romania on a chilling December evening later the next year- Romania never thought he'd be nearly as stubborn- and their game starts. It starts small, _just_ taking blood- a bite, maybe two, until Romania decides to up the game, starts kissing the pulse before taking a bite; starts licking his mark clean when England's breathless and panting from the adrenaline from having his blood taken from him.

It's not much longer until the bite marks start drifting south- a collar bone, an elbow, an ankle, his hip, his thigh. He loves taking blood from his thighs, he comes to England when he least suspects it, drops down to his knees silently, slips England's trousers off, kisses his flesh looking for the perfect pulse- it's drumming insanely being so close to such intimate flesh and he bites- drinks- licks and leaves.

Their relationship had never meant to go past the friendly blood donor- vampire relationship, but they soon find their selves kissing- Romania had bit England's lip once, blood pouring into both of their mouths and he spent a few good minutes licking every precious drop away and enjoying the after taste coating England's moist cavern. It's not too much longer and that the more than normal amount of blood taking and bite making happens.

Romania had stripped him of his shirt and bitten his hip, it was meant to be a quick boost- an energy drink kind of boost to get him through the meeting. But, he finds England's skin mesmerising and can't help but strip England of all clothing and bites his thighs, behind his knees, his wrists, completely devouring him. England's weary after that round and Romania's full- too full. They lie in bed together doing nothing but laying beside each other.

It's not too long, that drinking becomes a once in an every now thing- he just finds England too amusing, so he starts _just_ having sex with England, _only_ taking blood when it was absolutely necessary. And the sex is wonderful. England lying there with him… Romania just loves being accepted- he even forgets Hungary hates him.

He overhears Nations warn England about him- warning him of what he already knows… they don't know of the bite marks barely hidden by his white shirt. England rolls his eyes and later when Romania takes a bite- a little higher than England's comfortable with, he's questioned about what kind of vampire he is.

Moroi or Strigoi?

"Does it really matter?" he questions a little hurt- does it matter if he's considered a "good" or "bad" vampire? Romania's eyes are filled with anguish and England smiles up at him.

"Of course not I just want to know more about _my_ vampire," Romania's shocked by the answer and laughs. He explains everything about himself- his whole life- the things England may have know, the things he may not and he doesn't stop there, he shares his dreams, the anguish of getting past the killing stage of turning into a vampire- he shares how hurtful the first insult sent his way were.

And he lays in England's arms afterwards smiling and a burden lifted from his shoulders… everything was going to be alright. He had England, he was accepted… and… he was going to love every moment of it while it lasts and… Thank God for Dracula…

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_That OK? Well that's all you're getting!_


	15. Canada

_I was debating whether this pairing could be considered a rare pair and decided it kind of is so onwards to…_

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**.Canada.**

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When Canada docks into London he hadn't expected to find all the British ships flying Canadian flags- he didn't expect to see it on his way over either to be honest, he was scared he hadn't made it out of his own precious land, but he can see Big Ben posing for pictures as opposite the London Eye spies on the city. Definitely London as he's positive he doesn't have either of them on his land.

It's even more unexpected to find England waiting for him. It's a cold mid autumn day- England's wearing his long coat- buttons undone, not hot enough to go out in cool clothes, not cold enough to snuggle up warm. Canada's wearing his usual red hoodie, and a pair of simple jeans- hands hiding from the chill in his pockets where he's left his hand warmers just in case England's weather takes a turn to the worst. It doesn't look like it will, the sky is cloudless and the sun shines through a layer of clear blue- it's chilling.

"Canada!" England calls as he walks hurriedly over- he's pulled into a warm hug- the day's full of surprises.

"Eng… England…" Canada mutters, resting his hands on England's shoulders in an awkward returned hug- he's not used to England being overly affectionate, not since he's grown up at least, the last time England had openly shown his affection was when Canada looked about thirteen and England had snuck him over an éclair. _I don't agree with the Frog's food, but thought you might miss it a bit… _England had muttered and looked pained at having to give Canada a 'French' treat instead of scones, but he gave it to him anyway.

"I hear you're trying your best to fight the EU over the whole fishing boundaries," Canada nods; they wouldn't get England to persuade him to give in would they? They had already sent France over; Canada had fended him off after France promised to not listen to his side of the story at all- _Spain's an important ally_, was all France got in before the door was slammed in his face.

"Well I just wanted to let you know you have my full support, not that the rest of the EU _OR_ Iceland will be happy about that," England smiles, ruffling Canada's hair and Canada can't help but flush bright red.

"Thank… Thank you…" he grumbles out not even a tenth of his gratitude- he's a big independent Nation now, but it was always wonderful to have allies on his side- especially allies in the form of England.

"It's fine lad," England smiles that rare smile and it's like Canada's a small child again- a small child who falls in love for the first time- he adores that smile, he loves England, has since he found out how lovely England could be when he was a colony. But he's not a child anymore, so as the feelings stir, he reacts differently to as he may have.

His fingers find their selves gliding up England's face, thumbs resting on England's rosy cheeks- the slowly cooling air making them flush- fingers entangle with messy wind thrown locks, one ends up resting against England's ear and some just rest smoothly against England's neck. He tugs England's face up slightly and leans their heads together, breathes intermingling- Canada kind of wishes it was a little colder so he could watch as their breathing joined together and danced a tango away from them.

"I… I really am grateful England…" He closes his eyes for a second, enjoys England being right next to him, leaning on England and just England- he adores England…

His lilac eyes open and watch England's emerald eyes- unfazed by all around them- unfazed by the cold, unfazed by Canada's closeness, unfazed by everything in the world. Canada leans in close. His smooth locks mix in with England scruffy locks- eye lashes brush lightly against each other and slowly Canada let's his and England's lips brush together.

England's hands cover Canada's- they're warmer than Canada's. England shuts his eyes and leans into Canada's lips, his touch. Canada just allows their lips to ghost against each other's- he doesn't take the cheeky chance to slip his tongue into England's mouth, he doesn't want to rush the moment and they'll live a long time so he has plenty of other chances to kiss England with every ounce of passion he's ever directed at the older Nation.

But for now, surrounded by Canadian flags, with England one hundred percent on his side even though he should be siding with his own trading block, he'll kiss England- he'll let the cold sweep in and coax their bones into thinking it's too cold and he'll enjoy everything that is England: loyal, brave and loving. He loves England and so he wants to take it sweet, wants it to last forever- after all he can't think of another Nation better to share pancakes with in the morning…

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Sadly I have to cut it there, because the Mother wants me to sleep- hope you enjoy "gothic anime lover" and yes the last chapter was for you CherryYume (had look at it earlier today)! Anyways enjoy one and ALL!

OK! No time to check this chapter over sadly so I hope there's not TOO many awful mistakes throughout- and it's based on the Turbot wars- look it up on Wikipedia- as said would explain but in such a rush! ENJOY!


	16. Prussia

_This one I believe was also requested by CherryYume (as he/she asked for a lot of pairings XD) Hope you all enjoy, it's a bit more graphic than other chapters, but well you've been fore warned, so onwards to…_

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**.Prussia.**

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Prussia hadn't expected much from their alliance. France and Spain had always complained about the "eye-browed-beast", said how impassionate he is, how unmoving and stubborn he was, how his eyebrows were enough to give you nightmares for weeks, so he hadn't expected much.

It was tradition among Nations to seal any deal with something intimate- a kiss (lips or the cheek), to create a shared secret that no one else could know, sex. They had sex.

It wasn't what Prussia had been expecting. He thought _he_ was going to have to take the intuitive, force a kiss onto the Brit's lips- drown the God awful taste of disgust from his mouth with beer later. But that's not how it happened.

England had approached him and Prussia was mentally preparing himself for some protest, some hatred- he was absolutely loathing this moment. Only England took Prussia's face between his bare hands – Prussia had never seen them not hiding shyly behind thick black gloves… they're rough- war and labour ridden… they're not the hands you'd expect from the great British Empire… France's hands are smooth- the kind of hands that you question if they've ever have touched a spoon that had been newly made and cleaned a hundred times let alone dirt.

He falls in love with England's hands. They're hands he can respect- they're not hands that belong to some feeble damsel that cries herself to sleep- he's never been fond of Princesses that need saving- it's probably what had drawn him to Hungary in the first place. But England's hands are wonderful, he can feel a scar deeply ripping across the palm of his hand, it stops halfway through his thumb- it's perfectly straight and Prussia can almost imagine England holding his hand up to deflect a large blade after his own had been flung away from him.

England brings Prussia back from his wandering when he slams their lips together- It's harsh, bruising but not without care. It's precise and England slips his tongue into Prussia's mouth and their tongues fight together- like swords dancing together in a dangerous storm of direct hits and scrapes. Prussia adores England's tongue as it swings under Prussia own blow and swipes up, brushing seductively against Prussia's only, to slip away before Prussia can retaliate.

Prussia's the one who pushes England to the ground first though- red eyes watch England as he falls roughly to the ground, he props himself up on his elbows and grins up at Prussia, who's admiring England ruffled clothes, puffed up lips, scruffy hair. England's an, seemingly, unorganised mess, but it make Prussia want to take over England- control him- make him neater and just organise him wholly.

He falls to his knees in front of England, like the knight he used to be- it's the stance he'd take if he was going to take an oath, but he leans forward and kisses England full on the lips. England opens his mouth to allow Prussia in, but Prussia just takes England's bottom lip between his teeth- bites down hard- he wants to mark England- leave a mark of their alliance for all to see- scar his lips enough for alliances to come to see.

England lifts a leg to brush against Prussia's precious five meters and Prussia groans- loses the kiss, forehead leaning heavily against England's and breathes out deeply- it's been a while since he's had sex… since sex has excited as much as he's feeling it do so- so many Nations out there were too predictable through sex and Prussia had mapped each creek and crack of their lands, but England… he's never had England before, he's never been to the little island just above France, they've barely had a conversation worth remembering. It's exciting having something new…

"No biting," England smirks, lifting his leg a little higher, a little harder. "I can bite back, much harder."

"Is that a promise?" Prussia breathes into England's ear, grinding against England's touch unashamedly.

"You may not like where I bite Prussia," he says bringing his knee up particularly hard as Prussia goes to grind down on it- Prussia can't help but groan for a second before laughing out his reply of:

"_Kinky_."

"Very funny Prussia," England rolls his eyes, leaning his head up and kisses along Prussia's collar bone- sinking his teeth into the flesh every now and again. Prussia hands creep under England's waist band in wonder of how large England actually was as Prussia himself continues to grind into England's knee- his trousers slowly becoming uncomfortable- he'll _have_ to do something about that soon, but he wants England completely bare in front of him first.

England gasps as fingers wrap around him, leg stops moving for a moment as it gets used to the feeling- Prussia's hands are larger than his own, but thin- piano fingers, not that England would _tell_ Prussia that, only an idiot would comment on something that would remind Prussia he hasn't annoyed Austria in days when he has his hands around sensitive flesh- Prussia was known to be spontaneous and leaving half way through sex to annoy his worst enemy was only the least stupid thing Prussia would do. He still has his gloves on and England groans at the thought- he likes uniforms- always has, but what he wouldn't do to have fingers, free of decoration, wrapped around him- pump him to release.

He lets his head drop back- his throat's stretched for all to see the bone, veins and Adam's apple and Prussia takes the chance to lick, kiss and bite the flesh given to him. England relaxes, let's the feeling consume him- of having Prussia everywhere around him- to have an alliance being built- a strong alliance. He breathes in deeply, before grinding his knee back up against Prussia's "_five meters_".

"So who's awesome?" England hears Prussia's insufferable question- a question he was worried would come up- he opens an eye and looks up at Prussia's completely opposite eyes- they're ruby compared to his emerald, they're deeply concealed to England's emotional eyes and they bare the promise of not caring if he ruins the mood with stupid questions- a promise that'll he'll just force him back in the mood if he does get un-aroused.

England glares up at him, as he sneakily lifts a leg around Prussia's waist- Prussia's eyes give him a threat- he knows what England's doing, but England knows that the threat is empty- Prussia's in a position where his balance and weight could easily be used against him. They both know it and it's only a second later that England's tipped them over- Prussia's underneath- hand awkwardly stuck in England's trousers and England straddling his thighs.

"I enjoy what your hand is doing," England jolts his hips into Prussia's hand for demonstration. "But your mouth? We're going to have to work on your vocabulary and word choice if we want our alliance to work."

Prussia goes to say something diminishing to that only to feel his five meters being teased and he groans and can only be thankful that Spain and France were wrong. It was going to be a long night of power and position switching, but England has got to be the second most willing ally he's ever had (France of course being the first, but would you assume otherwise?) and by even God's divine intervention he wasn't going to let _anything_ ruin their fun.

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_Alright, base it off of one of their many alliances- probably their first big one, which you can all read about in an article on Wikipedia known as "Diplomatic Revolution", but I'm sure you know of their first alliance anyway, it's basically around that time of the Austrian Succession, but yes I hope you enjoyed- I'm tired and too lazy to continue typing now- so fare thee well and thanks for all your wonderful reviews I hope they continue coming in- only a little longer to Christmas now and after today? NO MORE COLLEGE! (Also I need to catch up on eating my chocolate calendar I haven't eaten form it since the tenth –le gasp-!_


	17. Switzerland

_I've had this chapter done for hours… the internet is not connecting- For god's sake internet work for more than five minutes DX_

_I'm pretty sure this one was asked by CherryYume as well, though I could be wrong internet's on the fritz so I can't go and check on it and yeah you don't need to worry about asking for a lot I'll probably enjoy filling them XP! But anyways enjoy!_

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**.Switzerland.**

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America's in the room, as is France and China… Oh! And of course the main problem… Russia. England glares at him, Switzerland wants to take out his gun but such actions would be deemed as threatening and he'll be assumed to be on Germany's side- more than he seemingly already is.

"I hate having to agree with Russia…" America starts, France looks just as displeased with the idea of occupying Switzerland to get to Germany as England is, but unlike England France doesn't have as much of a say in this- not after the whole deal with the Southern half of France. "But Switzerland is practically German anyway, so surely it shouldn't be too harmful."

England hits him for that comment.

"Switzerland is _neutral_!" You wouldn't assume it from the scars from bombs hitting him- some awkwardly shot bombs from England and America: England had apologised, America had insisted as a "hero" he had only hit Germany and that his aim was perfect- sometimes America was too oblivious to the world around him that England had to question whether he really _was_ his brother. "He's helped us plenty more than Germany in his neutral state so don't you dare suggest it."

Switzerland grits his teeth- he hates having to relying on other Nations, but he's relied on England before in impossible situations like these, so he guesses he has to again… though he wasn't going to enjoy it.

"But England…" America extends his name longer than needed- in that childish way he does when he wants England to do something for him, the way he did when he was little. "We need to win this one quickly; I mean you've seen London…"

He _lived_ in London through the Blitz as did some other Nations- Netherlands, Greece, Poland, Canada, Australia, New Zealand- it feels silly reminding England about how destroyed his heart is at the moment, how bloody and bruised his whole body he is. But, he's fine… he's worried about everyone else- Germany managed to cut his communications off with his African Colonies, Japan has his Asian Colonies and a couple of his Pacific Colonies captured and is using them as manual labour for making "_Asia better_" and Europe is being systematically destroyed and taken- he worries about Malta, about Cyprus… and no matter how much it pains him to admit it he's worried about the _whole_ of Europe… Switzerland included.

"But comrade, Switzerland's been taking in enemies injured soldiers and evacuated children, da?" Russia smiles- he wants to take over Germany's land- make it one with him after the betrayal… he thought they were friends, comrades, but Prussia lead Germany's planned attack on his land and now Russia wants retribution- getting some justice against England and Switzerland for the whole Crimean war would just be an extra bonus.

"He has taken in just as many of our own as well- he is _neutral_."

The tone is final. England won't accept any more come backs- America accepts this slumping back in his seat, before jumping up with his new heroic plan- something about him jumping in and saving everyone while everyone's his backup- arguments continue as normal, until Russia- eyes unyieldingly watching England and Switzerland pipe up with a pleasant:

"We can't discuss plans with a _spy_ here."

Switzerland's loyalty is once again thrown onto the table- the same full circle; Switzerland stands there awkwardly as England fights for the blonde's independence. Eventually the meetings adjourned by China who doesn't particularly mind what's happening in Europe and is getting a little fed up with plans not getting further- he rather prefers having plans sorted between one or two of the Nations on their own- he's created a few good tactics with England and they're prepared for an attack from Japan- only England's spies are trying to find out when the next attack is going to be- but they're prepared so all should be good this time around.

When they're away from everyone, Switzerland grabs England's wrist and drags him to an empty room- England's mind is elsewhere- thoughts on his Colonies, how is he going to find out where Japan was hiding them, how was he going to get news on his African Colonies- thoughts on his land where the bombs were being released again… and again- there's less than there was, but they're there nonetheless.

He's pushed onto a bed and Switzerland gets the medical kit. England's head is bleeding again- it's always bleeding nowadays, those damn bombs. Switzerland, cleans the wound, bandages it up and kisses it better. England's shocked out of his thoughts and he looks at Switzerland who's burning scarlet.

"It's… It's what I do for the kids here… to make them feel better… and you'll practically a big kid… can't even walk around without being guided and…" Switzerland shyly kisses another wound- he's embarrassed as his lips approach another. "And… and you're stupid- I can defend myself plenty fine…"

And as Switzerland's lips meet England's lips England's eyes soften- that was the closest he'd get a thank you out of Switzerland and it was a brilliant feeling being able to help someone for once.

"I won't let him touch you…" England mutters once Switzerland's pulled back and Switzerland hesitantly pushes another kiss onto England's lips- another thank you.

England wouldn't dare pull Switzerland into another kiss once the blonde pulls away again- he's not confident enough he'll get away with it- Switzerland being the proud Nation that he was and a Nation that's had to put up with France's and Prussia's endless tormentingly perverted ways. So when Switzerland pulls back England will try to say something deserving of another kiss, because God was it a wonderful feeling…

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_I haven't a clue what happened with this chapter… something I'm sure, but I was planning to delve deeply into their relationship throughout the years but I didn't really… anyways things that were mentioned: the Crimean war, England asked if Switzerland would help, Switzerland stuck to his neutrality on the surface but allowed for any volunteers to help the English. _

_WW2 consisted of Switzerland mistakenly getting hit by allied bombers- America seemed to think Germany was filled with German sympathisers that were out to help Germany, Russia wanted to occupy the neutral country to get to Germany and England put a stop to all such talks- complimenting Switzerland often. Switzerland also took in a lot of injured soldiers and evacuated children so they wouldn't come to any harm… I think that's basically everything mentioned…_

_Oh well I'm tired… Fare well –waves frantically-_


	18. Austria

_I had been planning a longer more unique chapter today that would be on enormously epic proportions, sadly it's been such a busy day I didn't get the chance to write till very late thus had to settle with a simpler character to write about, so for "The Artist Formerly Known As" I present you with…_

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**.Austria.**

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They had been allies more than enough times to be close- they fought together against France on more than one occasion, yes oblivious to fighting Austria had joined England in a good fight or two that both of them could consider the other a friend… though maybe friend wasn't quite the word they'd use. Austria had always been one to use alliances as marriages, England had always been one to use alliances to gather info and bend it to his favour (well depending if he actually liked the Nation he was in an alliance with), so their relationship was… unique.

"Barbaric," Austria would grunt when asked what he thought of England. "A barbaric Nation that uses this… Gentlemen persona to his advantage."

"Stuck up," England would sigh if asked. "I mean I'm sure he'd be fine if he wasn't being a stuck up prick the entire time."

Of course this wouldn't explain why when Austria had lost yet another war with Germany and when England had been given some of his land to watch over they started enjoying the others company as they had back when they allied their selves together. England would slip into a concert with Austria, Austria would bring an extra cup with him when he went to enjoy his tea and stories and banter were traded.

England enjoyed weaving tales from his battles and although not the most socially talkative Nation Austria enjoyed listening to them- would compose songs inspired by the grand and obviously exaggerated tales. He tells Austria about a colony of his, says their names are similar and that he hopes people never confuse the Nations up.

"It would be hilarious if someone was expecting a luscious Austrian mountain range, only to get stuck in a hot dangerous animal filled country where nature really hates those living there," England laughs and explains that he and Australia always say horrible things about each other's land as a joke when Austria looks horrified. "It _is_ hot there though and the amount of snakes, crocodiles and spiders Australia likes bringing in his house is horrendous… and his Koala- I swear it's been possessed by the devil himself!"

"Why would you colonise him in the first place then?" Austria questions, just simple curiosity, he's heard a few Nations had discovered Australia before England, but none had dared to colonise the island.

"He was a penal colony only… at first," England smiles fondly. "But the lad's a silly, insistent Nation that likes to demand as much attention as he possibly can- he refused to declare independence at first- had to do it myself… Really the lad forced me to care about him too much… not that I'm complaining."

That night with England's fond smile in mind Austria composes a new song- he isn't sure whether it's a tune filled with admiration for such a rare but beautiful sight, whether it's a sad ballad chiming out about the depressing feeling of the smile not being for him, or something far deeper… a… a lonely heartbreaking love song… Whatever it is the next morning England compliments the playing- says the song was gorgeous, Austria's almost tempted to tell him he was the inspiration for it, he resists easily, but provides England with a little extra breakfast than usual as thanks.

England's stay doesn't change that much, he comes and goes. Other land he is watching over as the long since lost war calms over needs checking on. There's Russia (and God Austria's glad others are trying to sort him out so soon, he knows what's happening to others… to Hungary and so many other Nations that used to be a part of his Empire… he just wants it to stop already).

"I'm trying to do the right thing…" England sighs one day, heading knocking against the table hard. "Just never thought it would be so bloody hard…"

"Hmm?" Austria hums his question, having the paper in hand, reading on the latest news- not too much crazy stuff going on for once.

"I'm giving my Colonises their independence, so hard seeing them go though… and of course the problems arising from land separation… Pakistan and India got into another argument the other day- really they call me untactful, they're not even trying to discussing the whole dividing the land thing anymore." England grumbles into the table.

Austria brushes his fingers through England's hair without really thinking- without looking up. Rubs soothing circles, England tenses at first but instantly relaxes.

"But at least you're doing the right thing, right?" Austria questions without consciousness, later when his mind asks why he went through showing such a friendly comforting act he'll-

"Thanks," England mutters.

He'll tell his mind that he did it because he had a friend it trouble…

Of course his mind knows better than him or at least his heart does. Knows why when England springs to mind, his fingers create music with endless meanings- knows it's because somewhere in Austria's mind, body… soul, he feels some kind of attraction to England, maybe always has, but back then he had Hungary, an Empire- now he has no one and his mind and heart have time to dwell on the feelings.

He's confused by it all- confused by his music: he's never been good with directions, so how was he ever going to find his way through his own mind? He can't. It's as simple as that- he'll probably never find an answer, maybe a drunken England kissing would clue him in… maybe it wouldn't, but he knows ignoring England when he's drunk is the best way to deal with him, so he'll probably never have to deal with that either…

But well… for now at least… he had his music, he had the English gentleman's company and he's enjoying their friendship so maybe… for now at least… it'll be all ok…

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_And… that was one hell of a random one… And I'm REALLY not positive it made any sense… Oh well, I hope you enjoyed- Austria and England have plenty of history if you're wondering, since the middle ages- a lot of the time it's teaming against the forces of France… and/or similar things, but I feel they're probably get along even if they personally don't say as such, etc. Also! This chapter should bring this story to over 30,000 words… God why did I decide to type too much?_

_Alright I'm sleepy and have been busy all day, so I'm going to bed now- farewell and enjoy… that's if you can make any sense of this awkwardly written chapter!_


	19. The Commonwealth

_Alright I'm not sure at all how this chapter is going to go- I'm winging it! I mean I kind of wanted to fill this one for ages but it's not my strongest kind of story and I doubt this chapter can be considered a rare pairing, but well Das asked for "__India, New Zealand, Australia, Seychelles and Canada being protective of England at a world meeting."__ That's the kind of story I'm horrible at writing- but if you haven't notice Commonwealth and European Nations are TOTALLY my (unbiased) favourite Nations, so I've REALLY been wanting to write this chapter… well… we can hope for the best (also I'm dubbing this chapter "The Commonwealth", because the Nations asked for are all a part of it I may sneak in a couple of the other Commonwealth countries… MAYBE…) Anyways I hope this one turns out alright and you all enjoy- now onwards too…_

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**.The Commonwealth.**

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_England's in a mood because of the whole EU business_. Is the message sent to the rest of the commonwealth in the late hours of the night by Australia- Australia had bumped into England about twenty minutes before he sent the message, offered to treat his older brother to a drink only to be refused (and England refusing free beer? Or even paying for the beer himself for that matter just with the promise of company? Was the world ending?) After Australia had asked why England had grumbled about putting up with Europe for a whole day and too tired for a drink.

Australia had quickly brought a 6 pack of Fosters: it was the best he was going to find in France… in all honesty he was surprised he even found Fosters, it was weak but at least it was a brand Australia trusted- being an Australian brand and all. He had rushed back to his hotel room (the world meeting that should have ended by now had to be delayed to the morning approaching- a quick glance at the clock told Australia it would start in roughly nine hours) and started his laptop and opened the usual group conversation with the commonwealth... well minus England, because he was sure England wouldn't appreciate seeing the conversation, it mainly consisted of forewarning about troubles that they were trying to hide and/or protect England from in the first place- the former British Empire definitely didn't realise how much they cared about him, but well they guessed it worked to their advantage.

_England's ALWAYS in a mood with the EU… Actually make that the WHOLE of Europe_. Was the first prompt reply Australia got- it was from Kenya- Australia smiled imagining the older female Nation groggily glaring at the conversation, she was a Nation you definitely didn't want to wake up when she was deep in sleep (Ok… Australia will admit to waking her up with "drunken" calls when he was completely sober for amusement).

_Is it because of all the emergency meetings? And because all of these Euro zone emergency meetings are dragging the world meeting out? Because I promise you I'm planning to kill someone if we have to stay in France for another week- he's still sore over losing to me at Rugby! _New Zealand had angrily typed, France had purposely been pretending not be able to understand what only New Zealand had been saying- Australia had found it amusing to watch France talk perfectly in _ENGLISH_ to England and then revert to French when talking to New Zealand- all because of the Rugby World Cup (Ok… So Australia may have led a few stray snakes into New Zealand's house, but it's not like New Zealand minded too much… Ok… So may the fact that one of sheep had been killed hadn't been appreciated that much, but… New Zealand had plenty of others to look after so it's not like he was losing out!)

_England used his VETO_. Australia had explained.

_I'm checking the BBC news and it looks like Australia IS telling the truth for once, so World War Three anyone?_ South Africa joked and Australia rolled his eyes- he was sure a few others were as well.

_It was a horrible meeting, I wouldn't be surprised._ Malta typed only to be questioned on what had happened.

_England just did what everyone knew he would do and not agree to the terms, he said he wasn't in the first place_, Cyprus explained with Gibraltar adding a quick: _not like many other countries COULD disagree- Germany saved them from bankruptcy and is probably going to have to again- the amount of stress Spain and Portugal are producing over here is unbelievable!_

_France isn't in a happy mood either…_ Canada typed- the message almost lost among all the questions. _Says he wishes England never joined the EU again… just when they weren't trying to kill each other for what… a month or two? _

_Peace never lasts with those two as I'm sure you know Canada._ India's message left a few smiles across the commonwealth's faces, really the two fighting had become such a normal thing it was creepy if France and England weren't. _So what's the plan for the World meeting? I'm sure Europe isn't amused._

_China's not amused either by the way_, Hong Kong comments._ He hasn't been enjoying the meetings dealing with borrowing money from him- he hates dealing with money problems- he'd rather hug that stupid cat toy he has- he has a water proof version for his baths for God's sake!_

_Ew… I did NOT need that mental image Hong Kong!_ Malaysia quickly types out with a quick agreement from a few other Nations.

_Plan! Now! Want to go back to sleep!_ Kenya yells her message and Uganda can't help but cheekily question why she doesn't want to talk with them longer- usually SHE'S the talkative one. _I am Tired! _

_Surely we're just going to do what we always do Kenya so just get some more sleep the meeting will start soon so you'll need as much sleep as you can get_, Cameroon calmly types.

A lot of the Nations listen to Cameroon's advice, while a couple of the Nations stick around a lot longer, surviving on beer, caffeine and pure adrenaline, passing amusing banter filled messages that the other sleeping Nations would read at a later date for amusement.

It's the next morning England wakes up to Canada banging on his door.

"Wanted to make you pancakes!" He had explained and set about doing so as England tiredly sat at the table and tried not to fall asleep on the smooth surface of the desk- he had enjoyed the pancakes and light conversation and felt so much more awake after Canada had made him some tea- Canada's tea was always too sweet, but England felt horrible if he told the lad so, he remembers India showing Canada how to make tea after Canada had begged to be shown and he remembers a much smaller Canada giving him the cup- eyes too hopeful- he couldn't tell him it was too sweet so he drank it all- every last drop, has ever since and he _STILL_ doesn't have the heart to tell Canada he makes his tea too sweet for him.

They end up arriving to the meeting early- they usually do. There's a seating plan up, it's unusual of France to do so for his meetings so Canada and England agree it must've been Germany's influence- the idea of the German and French alliance makes England grimace and Canada tries to talk England into forgetting he'd ever mentioned it, but Canada's brushed aside- their seats are on the other side of the room after all and England needs to be prepared and he expects Canada does as well.

As England sets up his paper work, he has to question why he has to sit in-between Spain and _FRANCE_ for this meeting, it's like the EU had planned to make his life hell for saying there was no way he'd agree to the treaty- they _KNEW_ he wouldn't and in all honesty Sweden, Hungary, Romania and a couple of other Nations looked a little awkward to be agreeing to the treaty- England doubts it will all end up well, but hey why listen to him? He's just a pessimist!

"And how are you doing today _Parvati_?" India questions, yawning and slumping into the chair that should be Spain's.

"I've been better… You look like you haven't had any sleep… You refused to sort your political documents out again didn't you?" England sends India a look and India grins back.

"They're still not done I think you'll find," a yawn. "I was watching Bollywood films all night," before England can interrupt and tell India how stupid he was being (like he usually did) he reveals a flask. "I have tea to help me through the meeting though, want some?"

England ends up with a cup of tea anyway- he'll complain to India about the how hot he makes it, but really it's almost perfect- nothing can beat a little English magic when it comes to tea though!

"I want some as well India!" Seychelles calls out, sitting in France's seat, she leans her head against the table as she waits for the tea to past to her.

"You two are over here because you both need today's notes don't you?" England sends them both looks and Seychelles smiles her yes, India just laughs out his reply of planning to wing the meeting like usual. They're both clipped around the head for that.

"It's because you're both of unorganised your always facing these problems, remember how the last commonwealth games almost wasn't held _India_," England hands Seychelles his notes with a warning not to spill the tea she's started drinking her tea. "And haven't you two noticed there's a _seating plan_ today?"

It's as England's distracted with dealing with two of his most unorganised former colonies that the rest of the commonwealth persuade other Nations that want England's attention to leave him alone for the day- attempt to persuade Germany to let England off with the whole VETO thing, distract all talk away from the Euro Zone. England will remember the meeting as unusually not stressful- only having to deal with the commonwealth as they do their usual stupid stunts throughout the entire day, while the commonwealth happily watch their former colonist have a rare restful day… really England could find the bad in the best of situations, they WISHED he's stop doing that already and until he does they'll just have to help in whatever ways they can!

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_Was it obvious I got lazy at the end? And that it was getting late so I had to quickly cut it off? Sorry I didn't get to explore the other Commonwealth Nations distracting England as the others helped out behind the scenes- but well I only had a couple of hours to write this! Also why did they not just go full out really obviously help England out? Because you think England would willingly let them help him out with things he dubs as "small" and "silly" like this? I didn't think so either._

_Well… enjoy this guess… I REALLY hate writing stories like this chapter (though I enjoy reading ones like this!)_


	20. The Nordics

_This chapter shall consist of a lot of fanfics put into one, simply because I only have a few days of writing this left (Oh god! Since when did Christmas come around so quickly? O.0 This has got to be the first year I haven't had gifts a month in advance! Shall quickly go out and buy the gifts I'm missing) and I still quite a few more Nations that have been asked for and I don't want to leave any requests hanging! So this chapter shall consist of in no particular order: Finland, requested by "The Artist Formerly Known As", Norway requested by "RainingMagicTea", Sweden requested by "CherryYume", Iceland and Puffin (for crack purposes apparently XD) requested by "HoshiUta" and because it feels wrong to leave Denmark out of a Nordic filled chapter you can have another short Denmark fill, the original one was requested by "RedWolf98", so yes… this chapter shall be delightful- I've been eager to write these guys, because come on who doesn't love the Nordics? And this IS a Christmas fanfic it would be weird without them!_

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**.The Nordics.**

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**Finland**

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The sauna's hot.

They're both sweating- that's what sauna's do to you, but well… England's not used to such a sudden increase of heat- his flesh it's a raw red… he thinks the heat may be getting to his head, because Finland was looking very attractive as he laughs about some silly joke. He's never really noticed before but Finland is… kind of attractive… and his muscles are strong and lean, even though he's short.

"Enjoying the sauna?" Finland questions after his laughter dies down- he had offered to take England to one after England had eaten some of his Finish food and complimented it- France says he still doesn't feel well after seeing England merely eating it: England had hit France for one being insulting and two because it was France- Finland had been especially thankful for that.

England though at the moment is more concerned with a bead of sweat as he slips from Finland forehead; it ghosts gently and quickly along Finland's cheeks, hesitates at his chin and decides to slide down against Finland's neck after the Nation moved backwards ever so slightly. The droplet continues its descent teasing a perk nipple before sliding sideways and caressing Finland's sides, before slipping under the towel that was hiding treasure. England loves treasure.

"England?" Finland questions and England manages to look up into Finland's motherly eyes, England smiles.

"It's wonderful Finland, just got a little side tracked by all the heat," He makes a show of fanning himself and Finland laughs, taking the cup that's filled with cold water.

"Of course it's meant to be hot! It's a sauna!" He pours the water into the fiery stones in the middle and the steam rolls out across the room, hiding each other from view and England feels almost cheated from not being able to enjoy the view anymore- he never realised how great a view Finland was until now! But well… maybe in the mist he could take the cheeky opportunity to stretch forward steal a kiss and pull back in "shock"… could say he was sorry he just couldn't see what he was doing…

"This is the way to spend a cold winter, right?" Finland asked and England's got his mind on something that could make everything so much sweeter, so he leans forward slightly- taking the chance is better than regretting it right?

"Yes…" He doesn't know if he's answering Finland or himself, but he moves forward and hopes for the best…

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**Sweden**

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"Save Copenhagen and punch anyone in the face who tries to stop me…" Are the threatening the words muttered by Netherlands when he's asked what he's planning in the simplest of ways, his eyes meet England's- a warning, foreshadowing a stormy future.

It had been said at a world meeting. England had stood beside his ally Sweden, he really couldn't afford another fight with Netherlands, but that's what it was looking like he was going to be forced to be a part of!

After the meeting he walks away with Sweden- idle chatter. They're allies; England's kind of glad about that Sweden had always been the nicest of the Vikings- Norway and Denmark always fighting over who ruled his land and who was the most powerful- Sweden had always been the more peaceful one, who talk more to England- would explain political things that England hadn't had a clue on back then- but would claim to anyways, Sweden would smile and explain anyways, saying he was reminding himself and that England should tell him when he got anything wrong.

He likes being allies with Sweden which is why this is an awful predicament they've got their selves in. He fully supported Sweden's occupation of Copenhagen, complimented Sweden's skills in fighting and he enjoyed watching the two Vikings fight- he was sure it was as entertaining as everyone found France and England's battles, what he hadn't expected was Netherlands… Sure England beat him in their first war, but England was weakened from that fighting and it was a well known fact that Netherlands had learnt from their previous war… had built up a navy that fully surpassed England's… that was terribly awful for England…

"England…" Sweden stops walking down the corridor, England turns towards him with an inquiring look. "D'nt send y'ur navy t' help…"

"Sweden?" England mutters after a while, raising a brow in question- was he _really_ being asked to sit this battle out?

Sweden's large hand finds its way onto England's head and scruffs up scruffy hair. England looks up to the clear blue eyes.

"D'nt want y'u hurt," Sweden smiles. "I'll be fine."

England smiles a strained smile as Sweden goes off to get ready for a battle. England waits around worriedly for news on what's happened- it's not too long that he finds out that Sweden had jumped into the battle aggressively- strongly… but the wind was against him, pulled Netherlands into battle easily. Netherlands had won.

England glares at nothing and picks up his pirate coat- time for a little revenge and to steal a Nation back…

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**Denmark**

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A fist connects to Denmark's head once… twice… three times. The blonde laughs. An elbow clips him around the head and he laughs even more.

"How were you an Empire England? You're so weak!" Denmark's kicked in the stomach for that- that hit actually hurt.

"Put. Me. Down. Now!" England growls each word in the most threatening way he possible can. Denmark laughs.

"But England you're the best wife to use for this competition-" He gets cut off with an angry "I'm not your wife!" Denmark laughs and adjusts England on his shoulder.

"But using you for the wife carrying challenge is my best idea EVER!" Denmark grins. "I can totally beat Sweden and the beer afterwards? You're such a light weight that I get to drink more, but you still get enough to fall asleep! See it's perfect!"

"I am still not your wife!" Denmark gets kicked again, but it's totally worth it if they win- especially the drunk induced sex later…

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**Norway**

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Norway arrives surprisingly the year after the war has ended a tree in hand… well not actually by hand because it was crazy large. England watches wide eyed as Norway's men set it up, Norway stands beside him drinking coffee.

"What's this Norway?" England manages to stutter and turn towards the Nation in question, Norway observes England for a while before replying with complete and utter seriousness.

"A tree England…"

There's a moments silence.

"I know it's a _tree_ Norway. I meant why is it here… Why are you here… What's going on?" England manages to choke out, really Nations had seemingly forgotten to give him forewarning when they do crazy stuff like this… REALLY!

"It's a thank you…" Norway nods his head as though it's the most obvious thing in the world. "A thank you for the World War… Thanks for keeping my people safe…"

England looks almost like he wants to argue, but stops himself- he really feels his people didn't do enough- that Norway had done so much more for him than the other way around, but… well…

"You're welcome I guess…" England flushes red and goes to look away only for Norway to kiss his cheek.

"Really thank you England…"

There's silence- comfortable silence as they watch the tree be put up- many are watching, couples holding hands, children who find it all very interesting and soldiers who had been a part of the war- it means so much more to them than anyone else. It's a wondrous sight watching it be put up… watching it stand up in the middle of the square.

"Can I help you decorate it..?" Norway questions and England smiles and kisses Norway's cheek.

"Please?" he asks and Norway smiles.

"It'll be my pleasure."

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**Iceland**

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Iceland doesn't like it when England's around… but it feels weird and lonely without him there in the background telling other Nations off, it's just when it comes to Iceland being the one being told off… that's what he doesn't like… it annoys him actually.

Maybe that's why he decides to cheekily cross the fishing boundaries. He wins the first war against England- he doubts it can be called a war it's not nearly as horrible, but that's what they've dubbed the little dispute so that's what Iceland calls it. England's annoyed he's lost but doesn't dwell on it too long- he has too much to do at the moment that he was getting over run with work.

The second one's won by Iceland as well- Iceland starts thinking England hasn't really taken him seriously after another win- surely England should be able to win lots and lots of wars? He's already won so many; surely adding a couple more to the winning side would be good? It's after he wins the third that he realises that England's just tired of war- the fights against Germany have tired him out, Iceland feel horrible for adding more stress to the stressful blonde's life.

Iceland goes on trying to ignore skirmishes against England- but they always appear no matter what he does… he almost feels some form of admiration for England being there… there's comfort and he'd never want England to go away and he kind of likes the attention directed towards him- good or bad, so he doesn't mind when another problem comes his way and England tells him off for it, he just sits silently listening to the rant and later smiles about the event.

England was special- Iceland doesn't understand why he is, but… well… he just is…

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**Puffin**

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England finds the puffin on his door step- its wings look ruined and destroyed, probably from the storms he decides. It may be hurt, but it glares at England when he tries to pick up, tries to peck his fingers off, tries to escape him. England captures him without _too_ much hassle.

He takes the bird in- makes a splint and bandages the bird's arms to its side- the puffin causes more mayhem the entire time- he wants to get back home, wants to escape the weird person who's found him, wants to see his beloved owner again.

"You must come from Iceland…" England mutters, and the puffin hears and is thrilled that his owner's name has been mentioned, so the weird one knew of his amazing owner… he may be able to forgive him for being weird if that was the case…

England tries his best in nursing the injured bird back to health, feeds him- after researching on what to feed Puffin's on Wikipedia- hey judgemental to Wikipedia or not it was as good a starting place as any. He set up a little area in the house for it stay and checks in on him every now and then. The bird heals surprisingly quickly and is excitable in getting the chance to fly back home.

When he's let free, the weird one leaves a kiss on the top of his head and lifts him closer to the sky. The bird takes off and it's as he flies home he remembers his stay- the niceness of the weird one, the conversations the weird one had shared- not that he could reply to anything, and the kiss… he decides to check his owner's brothers spell books- it might be fun to turn to human for a day… he could give his thanks for helping him… and maybe a return kiss?

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So the first one? Finland's famous for Sauna's, bad cuisine and Christmas, so it only felt to mention all of them! And I imagine Finland having a six pack hidden under all those clothes, because he's meant to be the strongest of the Nordics right?

Second one is based in the "Battle of the Sound", the line Netherlands- a real line said. The English didn't end up helping Sweden because they didn't want another Anglo-Dutch war even though they won the first one, England's coming to the end of his pirate era but doesn't mean he's quite out of that phase (I'm planning to write a fanfic on when I think England stops being a pirate but my mind is making everything in the story overly complicated, so only God knows when that fic will be finished). But yeah I adore Sweden so I made him the nicer of the Vikings- seeing as England ends up getting along better with him than the other Nordic Nations XP

Third one, I told you I'd give Denmark something short and silly- the Wife Carrying Contest in serious business in the Nordic Nations (and Estonia and apparently it's becoming popular in Canada and America?), but yes you win the wife that's carried weight in beer, so Denmark would TOTALLY choose England so they can go drinking afterwards (and because everyone else rejected him XD)

Fourth one is based on the tree we get in London from Norway- every year since WW2- was a thank you. It got burnt down last year because of the riots which was sad DX It's decorated completely white in a Norwegian style as well apparently! I want to actually go and see it be put up and lit for the first day, but haven't had the chance to as of yet!

Number five is based on the Cod Wars- Iceland won them all… I really haven't a clue how to write Iceland, I enjoy him endlessly (a shop's called Iceland here as well which is brilliant- I used to think they were one and the same as I was a strange child)! So that's all I ended up writing for it!

Mr. Puffin, the last one… is actually kind of based of an event that happened recently a Puffin was hit down to England/Scotland border area I believe, because of the storm- it sadly died, so I thought England would help this one to LIVE!

Anyways they're short and I have no time to go over and quickly check through them… the reason for all of this is my eyes have been playing up all day- tis kind of annoying, but oh well! Enjoy one and all!


	21. Ottoman Empire

_Calling it the Ottoman Empire, but really only consists of Turkey and Greece… Turley was requested by "CherryYume" and Greece was requested by "RedWolf95"- hope you both enjoy!_

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**.Ottoman Empire.**

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**Turkey**

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England smiles mockingly at Turkey. Turkey grins back- all teeth, he'd be a wolf or some other kind of animal that hunted prey, while his teeth glinted with a promised threat.

"England," Turkey calls and bows mocking to him- England bows back, it's all a charade, a play of sorts- many dance, England won't be joining them, Turkey probably won't they have business to attend. They walk out of the ball room; into a practically empty corridor- it's not completely empty though.

"So I hear you're helping some of my territories fight for independence," Turkey's voice laughs- it sounds deadly.

England folds his arms and leans against the wall; he's not foolish enough to walk out of the sight of others. He grins up at Turkey.

"Of course I promised to help them set up their own countries if they revolted against you," England smiles. "And they were more than happy to agree, Egypt and Sudan really weren't that fond of you were they?" Turkey's fist slams on the wall beside England's face, England laughs about it. "And what does that achieve… Turkey… Your new name doesn't quite suit you, you know? I much preferred Ottoman."

"It's not about what you prefer though is it England?" Turkey sneers. "I may have fallen out of power, but you're slipping up as well, so don't think I'm just another pawn in this game of chess you and France enjoy playing… though I do wonder how much longer you're going to last as a World power."

"For as long as I can," England smiles, he's not deluded into thinking his rule was immortalised- The Boer War showed that to him- this Great War proved it- he just hoped nothing too big happened for a little while.

"But the question right now," England cuts Turkey off quickly. "Is what are _YOU_ going to do? Your Empire is lost to you; you're not that strong I could over power you easily if I wanted to… Do you even have any allies anymore? You know the others mock you behind your back right? Call you the old man of Europe… You're not even completely in Europe are you?"

Turkey's lips smash against England's; it's a confusing few seconds as England's fingers entangle their way into hidden brown locks of hair, as England's back is pushed further into the wall, while Turkey's hands at his waist pull him in closer. Tongues clash together in heated battle and Turkey's white mask scratches slightly against England's nose.

They pull apart grinning.

"You like making everything more complicated than it has to be, don't you England?" Turkey laughs.

"It's fun to see everyone's reactions differ…" England smiles. "Didn't think you'd get over everything I've done through the last years so quickly though… I wouldn't have."

"That's the difference between you and me England, I accept something's were invertible, while you complain endlessly," Turkey grins and England rolls his eyes before they start their usual banter in among kisses and touches.

And it's relaxing compared to the horrendous battles of recent years; different to the usual death… it's familiar. And familiar things comfort them and their "old man" ways, so they enjoy it and hope for the best, after all tomorrow couldn't be too awful right?

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**Greece**

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Greece kisses behind England's knee; he has England lying down in front of him, his face flushed and trying not to call out for more. Greece smiles lightly and places another kiss on the inside of his knee. His fingers glide lightly against one ankle and the other leg's thigh. He kisses England's knee again.

"Greece," England moans. "Stop… Stop kissing my knee already…"

Greece hums his agreement, but continues kissing England's knee- he doesn't want to rush anything. But he lets a hand drop closer to where England wants to be touched, lets his fingers dance teasing circles into flesh that wants to be touched, felt and loved.

"Greece…" England huffs. "Really… can we do… a little… more…?"

"We can…" Greece mumbles into flesh, but doesn't do more than he already is- he's enjoying England's flushed face, he never really thought England's face could be so adorable, but it is- he almost looks like a cat that was annoyed for being teased for so long.

"Then why _AREN'T _we?" England grumbles, attempting to glare up at Greece, but he just can't find the energy to move his eyes and eyebrows into a threatening position.

"I'm enjoying the view…" Greece nods his head and places another kiss into England knee.

"Greece!" England pushes himself up onto his elbows, Greece looks into his eyes and blinks slowly as England breathes slowly. "Please…"

Greece leans forwards and captures England's lips, it's slow and teasing. Lips slowly part, slowly enter England's mouth, slowly entwine with England's tongue… It's so slow, but God it feels wonderful. The hand that had been rubbing circles into his ankle slips up to cup his cheek- it's sweet and gentle. It's not that England doesn't enjoy sweet and gentle, it's just he's always been with fiery and passionate Nations and their fast and strong touch may have effected England a little too much over the years.

Greece pulls back slowly and his eyes meet England's.

"It's a royal wedding… Want it to be special," his thumb strokes England's cheek and England smiles at Greece.

"He's not even your Prince anymore…" England mutters.

"He is… just not officially… And I kind of like Phillip…" Greece places a quick and smooth kiss onto England's lips.

England wants to roll his eyes at the slowness, the sweetness- it's not his style, it really isn't, but Greece is just so adorable about he can't help but try and make things more special, more caring- it's _really_ not his style, but he kind of enjoys it…

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Don't… Don't even ask! Turkey's one is based after WW1- lots of crazy stuff have happened to those two over the years- allies for one war, enemies the next. England helping a lot of Turkey's Colonies gain their freedom, the fact that England quite enjoys Turkey's company, they have a unique relationship... Still do till this day actually!

Greece's one is based on the fact that the Queen's husband Phillip was once the Prince of Greece- always wanted to write something about that!

Sorry no time to write more- or check though… like usual!


	22. South Korea

_Today's chapter was requested by "CherryYume" so onwards too…_

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**.South Korea.**

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England walks up to the graves, South Korea beside him doesn't babble on greatly. South Korea isn't quite sure why he let England's graves stay there- he got rid of Japan's as soon as Japan left his land, but he didn't have the heart to get rid of England's when England had returned the Port Hamilton… Admittedly the land had been returned much earlier than the incident that caused these graves.

There are ten of them.

"Thank you…" England mutters and looks at South Korea from over his soldier. "I'm glad they're safe in foreign land."

Ten sailors and marines- it almost seems insignificant… compared to the amount of men England has buried in Turkey, in Egypt… all over the world… But even these ten England doesn't have the heart to just leave, to just ignore- he visits, whenever he can- England's ambassador's in South Korea have taken to visiting yearly as well…

"It's ok," South Korea mummers back- almost wants to add that the Island still belongs to England… only it kind of doesn't anymore…

They had met on this island. Back when South Korea was still oblivious to everything Western, back when all that was important to him was his family. He'd heard of the Western world of course, communicated with a couple of them, heard the complaints from those colonised in Asia- saw less of those colonised… they were strange times and that's when he met England.

"I'm England," was the simple and brisk introduction. "I was hoping you'd allow me to use this port as naval base to help keep Russia from coming into Asia."

He'd heard of England. Heard he had colonised Malaya, Singapore, India and his siblings, Hong Kong- of course he's also definitely heard of Russia… North Korea seemed to be infatuated with the man. China had warned him of the two fighting at the moment- best not to get involved. He's heard Japan's not fond of Russia either…

He ends up agreeing to the naval base. He enjoys walking around the building, enjoys England's men- the way they spoke was hilarious, he even enjoys England's company. England doesn't stay for too much longer. He packs up a lot of the base stuff after two years with a smile.

"Thank you for the help, but Russia isn't a problem now…" He had smiled, England carried on visiting on his visits to Asia though and there were a lot of visits. England introduced South Korea to faster communication through cables- China helps with setting everything up, but England shows him what to do, South Korea claims it as his own invention afterwards and England just shakes his head in amusement.

They enjoy the bizarre conversations and South Korea enjoys being introduced to England's sports… he claims he made them himself after he's got the hang of them. They get along quite well and England carries on visiting… well until Japan's invasion…

He's sure that's why they don't carry on their strange and lengthy conversations. England's allies with Japan… well when South Korea is first put under Japan's control. England doesn't do anything because he's friends with Japan- wouldn't dare. World War 2 they meet again for the first time in a long while, South Korea's quite shocked to see England appear as he did- he's sure a lot of Asia was, but Japan had stolen some of his Empire and he had wanted it back, so with blood dripping from almost every wound marked across his body- they'd later all find out they were from bombs, endlessly dropped bombs, he manages to get them away from Japan's control- it was an even bigger shock for the whole of Asia when China came in as backup.

South Korea manages to get a few words in among England's colonies worrying. They end up discussing the graves Korea had set up, what was to come of his land now, how Japan's set up graves of England's old port- old naval base. Everything revolved when it's less frantic- once everything's not being spouted out at once.

A couple of weeks after the war's finished, England visits the island again- brushes his fingers against each grave- South Korea watches the care England gives to each stone- England really cares about his people, his colonies, his everything…

"But I really mean it South Korea," England's looking at him straight on- not the graves, his precious everything's but South Korea. "I'm so grateful you've kept their graves here… you could have thrown them out with Japan's…"

South Korea smiles as much as he dubs is ok at a place of mourning… he's still not really sure about how Westerners deal with graves and deaths and all that, he's more used to optimism when someone dies in Asia, there's sadness, but a hope that they'll better- in Europe in all seems black as though if they don't stop praying the soul will get lost- will suddenly cease to be… Heaven seems like a hard place to work for in Europe…

"And I meant it when I said it was ok England," South Korea looks at each grave, they've always been cared for, people enjoy coming to visit the graves of some of England's bravest. "I doubt I could get rid of them even if I wanted to- after Korea created generosity!"

It's a stupid thing to say, but it's such a South Korea thing to say that England can't help but let a smile slip across his face, can't help but need to stifle a laugh- at least he can safely say his men were buried in the perfect place…

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_I haven't a clue what I wrote again! All I know is England had the Port of Hamilton as a naval base to stop Russia from controlling Asia (because for a while Russia and England were playing a "game" to be the stronger presence in Asia- England won and South Korea's island was the perfect place for naval operations against Russia) and that there's ten famous British graves there apparently! And they've been visited yearly by our ambassador… I may do some more research and make a better fic about this, because it's quite interesting! Anyways, hope you enjoyed… and that it makes sense!_


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